Survived another comics convention but I'm broken. Exhausted. I like conventions, but I don't like the organisational part. Contrary to what some claim, I'm a poor organizer and have to work very hard to keep things on track. Plus, I tend to take up most of the work that needs to be done myself because I hate bossing other people around, so to speak. So the past few conventions, where I was more in charge of the ClickBurg stand itself, I've grown more and more tired. To the point that I'm now considering never going to a comics convention again for the rest of my life.
It's just a temporary depression, I'm sure. But I have nothing but dark, sad, nihilistic, even angry thoughts in my head now - a serious dark streak. Result of working my ass off for quite a while again and going through the 'payoff' - the end result of all that work... and then afterwards being stuck with the inevitable wonder wether or not it was all worth it. Happens every time, I'm sure I had this thought after ClickBurg 2005 last May, and after the other conventions as well, but I'm too tired to remember.
I'm also growing more and more lonely right now. I can still stand it because I can handle loneliness well, but occasionally I break down and the actual emotion overflows me. I'm sure I'll get awesome creative material out of all this, but I don't even really have much time to sit down and express it all on paper. No outlet - that could be bad.
Last weekend I was around several women I like rather well. This morning in the train I was also surrounded by a few very attractive and interesting-seeming women.. but all I could think was how I feel like giving up. Ironically, as I type this, Portishead pops up on the playlist with 'Glorybox'. The weather outside completes the picture with dark grey clouds and bursts of rain.
I didn't want to try to solve the loneliness, despite having opportunity to do so. I don't want to chase anyone, I don't want to pretend I'm more interesting than I am. I just want to give in. I want to collapse on a bed, sleep, cry, I want to punch things, I want to scream -- I feel so damn... full. And restricted. Like I have a gazillion feelings, stories, images, and they all want out but the world forbids me to express them. That's how I feel. It's all self-inflicted of course, my damn sense of responsibility is the only thing in the way. Nothing really stops me from taking a vacation, or quit my job, or let Probeersel.com and ClickBurg fall to pieces. Except that. That there's a part of me that wouldn't be able to live with failing those responsibilities. They're my responsibilities and I take them seriously. But in doing so, I'm locking too much inside that otherwise could flow freely.
I wish I could just sit down and draw this. I don't want to be at work. I don't want to be part of the comics world anymore. I don't want to be 'someone' in the webcomics scene anymore either.
I just wanna be... someone who draws. I want that feeling back from when I was slaving away, creating things without deadline or audience. I want to pour my soul out on paper again without trying to fit it in a storyline or hide it in between lines of text - I want to breathe out. I'm short on breath. I want to come up for air. That's what it is. I can't breathe. I desperately need to catch my breath.