clownrus

Such a typically asked question. "Who am I?" Many people devote their lives to attempting to answer said question. Everyone at some point asks themselves that question, and if you haven't, well good for you Mr. Head on your shoulders. I'd give you a medal but I'm too busy writing this journal. Anyways, this question has been baffling me for about a year now. I go through constant fits picking apart myself trying to discover, who I am. Who am I, is a question that leads to yet, more questions. Where do I belong? What am I doing? What does it all mean? Who am I? Whenever I confide in someone about this, I always get the same retort.

This is the first time I'm putting anything on my deviantart account. I've had this account for five years, yet all I've done is look at pretty pictures, comment, and use it to fuel my visual need for art. I have a strong need for art in my life, and I've been disconnected to it for about six months now. I used to go to an art school, there would be paintings and pictures draped across our walls. Outside dorm rooms hung beautiful canvases created by the person behind the door. I remember once I saw a painting, and I stood there staring at it for about six or seven minutes. It was a portrait of a skull with a snake crawling out of its eye, a