I worry about that a lot. Am i a selfish indulgent cockface who takes pictures of every little thing I'm doing, my face, posting profoundly and painfully long diatribes and thinks someone should care? Am I full of myself? Do I think I'm worth a damn to anyone? Is my original purpose of this website backfiring on itself? Maybe.

I suppose as an artist I need the outlet. In a way, I am a cry baby. I bitch about shit. My shit. As hard or easy as it is to deal with, I bitch here, publicly. It IS all about me here. It has to be. Because if I don't have an outlet then nothing is worth doing. My life is for naught. So many fucked up but also interesting. and also great things have happened in my life. Things that I want to share. But also document so if anyone DOES care one day, my stories won't be lost without me. On the same token, I'm not shoving it down anyone's throat. It's not on social media platforms where it's fight to avoid. Not in a complete form anyway. I post here and there, but long thoughts I'll write here, even short ones or simple little thoughts I have I would like to share. Such as this. 

    I'd kill someone if I read this on someone's Facebook. If this whole fucking thing ended up on my wall without my consent, Jesus I don't know. Faith in humanity has already been lost. So what more can I do? But I digress. It's here, not there. I have no illusions anyone wants to be    that involved in my life, or know about it. I'm only another guy. Another asshole walking the earth, talking up space, trying to make it. 

   That being said, I tell myself it's because so much crap has beat me down sand taken a turn in my life that all I can do is turn inward and be there for myself and focus on myself which results in an insane sense of self awareness and self hatred.  It leads to the amazingly wonderful questions like, "why are you such an asshole?" "Why are you here? Why did you say that? "Why am I like this?" You answer them too and go deeper. "What the fuck happened to me in my childhood that made me this way?" "Am I just a pussy? Am I over thinking?" Then you get all kinds of fucked up going down that rabbit hole. "Why am I over thinking? Why am I rambling? Am I really rambling or am I trying to work something out I'm not aware of? Is this a result of that thing or things that happened in my childhood? Did an old man touch me or something?is this just inside me?" (No pun intended)

    Aaaand then, "is this shit the reason I can't keep friends? When it comes out too much they can't handle it. It's too damn much. Why can't you keep it to yourself?" "Shut your damn mouth you idiot. Don't talk, shush, shut the Fuck up. You have nothing nice to say. Actually, yes you do. But still, be quiet." Then I realize I've been thinking this sitting or standing there, and people ask what's wrong. 

     Bringing it back, I think because of all the things happening, going on with me, etc. I feel the need to express in some way. This is it. Talk about it publicly, or dictate rather. 

   Let's make it. In the ("let's go" sense.)