Its been a few months since my overdose, i've kept myself in solitude mostly since then; i've had time to think about my life and the events leading to my decision to overdose.
At first, I begun to point fingers at the people around my life who seemingly disappeared after there was nothing else i could give them ; maybe the isolation and betrayal caused me to the conclusion to take my own life - but i realised that with a childhood as harsh as mine; this could not be the case.
I realised that somewhere along the past 2 years, I fell out of love with art and started treating it like a task or job instead of what it used to be.
I started to think further, on how this could possibly have happened and one day it clicked ; it was a harsh realisation. I used to work for others, to help and aid others - not myself , and when my trust in humanity faded so did my reason for making art.
I've come to terms that i needed to learn to work and create for myself. I stand here today, alive once again, but now at the centre of my own universe.
