art philosophy / words

I was…unsatisfied, so I pursued art.

I’ve been wandering around in a haze most of my life

Never really committing to anything

Not to school

Not to relationships

or jobs or locations

Never really committing to anything except myself

The idea of permanence has never really sank in

Things were disposable, along with people and places

Drifting around half-stupid

In and out of classrooms on the U of I campus

Up and down apartment stairs in blissful intoxication

looking for a purpose, and finding none

So I left, behind all unhappiness in that place

Or maybe, all the unhappiness in myself

As I would a few times in my life

And I drifted further away from the things I knew

From the small town places

From all those friendships I had built

Eventually, at times, from the person I knew

I’ve been pretty consistent at two things:

Being selfish and quitting things

And I’ve come to this point where

I’ve quit everything there is to quit

I’ve quit everything there is to quit and I’ve decided

To do nothing else, but focus on my art.

because…

Nothing seems more perfectly selfish

than devoting my life to myself

-park

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