"Art is a jealous mistress, and if a man have a genius for painting, poetry, music, architecture, or philosophy, he makes a bad husband and an ill provider."

-Ralph Waldo Emerson

Imagination is a messy friend.

Only because it hurts, only because it makes you feel useless and shows your weaknesses. Because it rips you apart, tears your heart out to sundry as a sick display. Because it breaks you down in the middle of the night and destroys what has been fixed. Because you are defective and infect everything you touch. Because it is the height of your ridicule. Because you are the saint of self-abuse. Because you are nothing more than what everyone else is.

Make art. Only because you love it knowing that it will never love you.