I'm in my 40's. I've always been able to draw. However, I never did anything with it. My mother was a drunk, so art supplies were not warranted. Still, I managed. In highschool I spent my entire day in the art room. Teachers never expected me to stay in class or do any work. I even had my own 'room' for my work. I dropped out. I ran away. I went to England (where I was born) and fell into the street life of the 90's.
I was beaten and left for dead on the side of the road. I fractured hip, torn ACL. Which I never got fixed. Now I am really paying for it. Pain is a constant friend. Simply walking some days is out of the question... I had, last year found someone that was the greatest muse I had ever come across. He made me want to strive to create, made me want to be more than I was... made me want to live.... and all I did was do everything I could to destroy that. Everything I could to drive him away.
I know... I don't like people being close. I can hardly manage text based friendships and I LOATH facebook.
I'm also a cutter. Have been since I was 14. Seems to be something I will never outgrow...even to this day I find myself sitting with a sharp drawing crimson lines upon my skin.
I won't kill myself. Cutting is not being suicidal .... I just can't seem to find the person, that one other that GETS me... that understands my need to draw, my need to lock myself away, my need to be alone, for quiet, for nature, for..... pain. I simply do not fit into society and for that I am being judged.
I don't steal from people. I care about the environment, I love animals. ( have 16)... and yet, I am somehow seen unfit because I don't care about superficial things. I'm tired of being alone in my world... but I'm too broken, too fucked up to be loved.... so why then, should I bother living...? Fuck if I know..... and yet I do.