Mixed Mind Media / 27 June 2013
One day I will write and make art about pretty things and being middle class, but I have still some terrors to release and some ghosts to make even more invisibile. I am having some therapy at the moment so I am able to make phone calls, and thankfully there has been some improvement. Yet at the same time I am creating art like this, where the compulsion to doodle wants to the rip the world to pieces.
Making phone calls is really difficult for me because it is a huge trigger; it's also hard to discern the phone speaker from voices and invasive thoughts, and when I am really unwell, I am convinced the phone steals my thoughts.
This consiousness that walks on coals and sleeps on nails has a lot to answer for. The mind is a strange instrument. It receives endless messages of pain. But the horrible thing about it is that it’s sometimes the sender, too – not unlike making dirty and threatening phone calls to yourself.