for the longest time my work has been what i would call a journey to find what was missing. the objects i would make would fill the void for mere moments. the places and spaces would provide some comfort for as long as i stayed in them. i always knew these things i made were temporary and wouldn’t exist forever. i make something to fill a void knowing it would only provide comfort for a short amount of time in what seems like an eternity without it. the time and effort in making these objects, rooms, and spaces seems minimal in comparison to the vast amount of time i spend longing.
i am no longer interested in looking for something or trying to figure out what it is that would provide me with a feeling of contentment and most importantly happiness. i have found it. and now i am afraid of what it’s going to be like when i can’t have it. we are ingrained to want, to desire, to need. i am not so good with or interested in the feelings, physically and mentally, that come with the absence of you.
fatigue has set in.
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