Where I Became an Artist

It’s been a couple of days, I haven’t had internet which has been strange and nice except for the falling asleep thing, I used to have to sleep in silence and complete darkness, now I need some sort of noise to lull me into dreamland. I’ve never been a good sleeper, except when I was a baby I think (mom? dad?). Consciously I’ve never been a good sleeper, I used to have to make up hours worth of stories with my eyes closed to go to sleep. Sometimes they were exciting, sometimes they were scary, sometimes they were playing out fears or dreams that I had, I think that’s where I became and artist, telling myself hours and hours of stories to get all of those thoughts somewhere other than my head, I learned that putting my thoughts, fears, and dreams outside of my head brought me enough comfort to sleep, even if I was just talking to myself at the time (I mean I’m still talking to myself, I’m just a little better at it). I taught myself there that even if the story I was telling was scary, I was a twisted kid (I’m still a twisted kid) sometimes they got dark, when it was over I felt like that darkness was out of me. If it was a funny story I felt like I could tell it to a friend and maybe make them laugh. If it was sad or moving, I’d let myself feel those things. I still tell stories, I just write them down now, or I make a photograph or a pretty shitty painting, it still brings me an incredible amount of peace even when it is very hard. I still don’t sleep well, but I do find I sleep better after I’ve made something, and I suppose now I fall asleep to someone else’s stories.