I've started a painting. FINALLY.
For months I feel like I've been running around a field full of heavy little legless balloon children, wielding this giant net to catch them in but have yet bag just one. That for instance is one of the many weak ass metaphores I came up with to elaborate on my helplessness towards my various crafts. Fucking balloon children. Maybe I'll draw them instead or write a crappy song about them or crochet them 30 fucking matching hats and goddamned scarves!!!! or DRAW THEM ALL FUCKING ON A CROCHET GUITAR WHILE SHOUTING UNNERVING AND SEXY POETRY ABOUT LEONARD NIMOY!!!!!! I guess I could but I think I'll just go to bed.
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