Category Archives: Mental Bullshit

Conversations with a Broken Brain, episode 2

Hey.

What?

I just remembered the lyrics to that song you were humming earlier.

That’s nice. Now shut up.

No need to be rude.

It’s four in the fucking morning. I feel like this revelation could have waited until my alarm went off.

I’m just trying to help.

Right. Great. Thanks. Now GO TO SLEEP.

Remember the time you wet your pants at school? Let me play that scene for you in vivid detail.

No.

Here it is from another angle.

Please no.

I bet you can feel the humiliation even now. The white-hot embarrassment creeping up your spine, the tears struggling to escape your closed eyes, the feeling that everyone in the world is staring at you…

Stop it!

Okay, fine. Let’s change the subject.

Please just let me sleep. Please.

EVERYONE IS DEAD.

What? No they’re not!

Well, if they’re not dead, they will be someday, including everyone who cares about you. Maybe even tomorrow. How would that make you feel?

Stop.

Maybe they’ll get hit by trucks. Maybe they’ll be poisoned. Maybe murderers are breaking into their house this very second. Maybe you’ll wake up and be all alone. Forever. 

Stop…please…

And it will be your fault, because you fell asleep. The only way to keep everyone alive until morning is to stay awake picturing them living another day. And you can’t let your concentration slip for even a moment, or they’ll die. Horribly. Cursing your name.

That’s almost certainly not true.

Yes, it is.

No, it can’t be.

Yes, it–

SHUT UP! I have shit to do in the morning! If you don’t knock it off, I swear I’ll stick you in a blender on the “puree” setting and have a brain smoothie for breakfast.

Okay, jeez. I’ll let you sleep.

Thank you.

Sweet dreams.

Good night.

Hey, what if there are spiders in here?

I hate you so much.

 

Conversations with a Broken Brain, episode 1

 

What are you doing?

I’m working on this bracelet, obviously.

It sucks.

No. No it doesn’t. Also: Fuck you.

Seriously, it sucks. You’re incompetent. I can see three flaws and you’re not even halfway done.

Those aren’t flaws, I just changed the pattern slightly. I think the design is more cohesive this way.

You must be joking. Messing up patterns? Thinking you can modify designs and it won’t end in disaster? You’re not even a real artist.

Yes I am!

Um, no. You’re just a n00b with delusions of grandeur. How many pieces have you sold on Etsy? How many galleries display your work? Does anyone not related to you read your blog?

That’s not what makes an artist. A “real” artist is someone who makes art. Period.

Hiding behind inspirational quotes, I see. I assume you got that one off a bumper sticker.

Actually, I have heard it from many artists I admire. Besides, success takes time. I’m not going to improve if you make me give up.

Being a REAL artist requires more talent and hard work than you’re capable of.

That’s not true…is it?

You think other artists spend this much time arguing with themselves? Your production rate is abysmal. Furthermore, everyone else’s art is much better than yours. Everyone’s.

…Even if that was true, it wouldn’t matter. I’m still an artist.

Fine, you’re technically an artist. But you’re trying to make this a legit business. Who the hell do you think you are, thinking anyone wants to buy your shit? There are a lot of unsuccessful artists out there who are way more talented than you. It’s arrogant to think YOU have a shot.

I’m talented. I think.

You know who doubts themselves? Losers.

Okay, I KNOW that’s not true. Everyone has doubts sometimes.

Other people’s doubts are unfounded fears. Yours are a reality check from your gut feelings.

No.

Just accept that you’re worthless and give up.

No!

You’re a waste of space and so is your art.

…No.

Yes, it—

SHUT UP! You’re wrong. I know you’re wrong. You won’t win this time. I. Am. An. Artist. Moreover, I’m a good artist.

Sure you are.

Don’t I take medication to keep you from talking this way to me?

You can’t turn off the truth.

IT’S NOT TRUE, DAMMIT! I am done with this pointless argument. You won’t stop me from creating. I am finishing this bracelet, and I’m going to sell it, and it will make someone happy, and you can just go fuck yourself.

Whatever you say, O Delusional One.

I hate you.

I am you.

I know.