Childish Idealism

    I miss those times that I had no fear: I could make anything, draw anything, create my own world and many other where people were happy without wars, without degrading each other. I miss those times I could fanart without being accused of copy, heavily criticized because I don't know the damn proportions. I miss those times that there was no person who said that art is a complex world, culture, that nobody can reach. I hate when I get a critique or a lecture from someone who knows one or two techniques, or those who barely used a pencil to draw other shapes than numbers or letters.

    I fear those times that miss because I fear not being good enough to art and to deal with art. I have a very strong trauma, and I live with a pack of beasts. Ignorants that think that hold the knowledge of the universe: They are my family. I don't damn care about revealing a secret to the world, not because I'm desperate. But I want to say what's inside me for years. I want to blame people who walk on the streets thinking they are perfect. I want to hate people that think I love them, and I want to love those who are insecure arround me. I'm damaged because of those shits, and what's left to me is this awful legacy. It's a story I have to erase and give space to write a new one: Where my dreams come true, where my art becomes alive and shouts, cries, loves and sings by itself.

    I want to kill ignorants, I want to kill ignorance and (some times) I want to kill myself. But my art, my inspiration and my pride don't let me. Other than doing shit, I'd rather to express myself here.