standing next to a mountain

i guess i won't get into specifics, but i just found out i have a lot more debts and obligations than i thought i did, which caused me to have a sort of mini-breakdown. i realized that in order to have any hope of digging myself out of my hole and surviving, i'd have to work more at my current job and try to get a second one, ditch any and all activities which require money for quite a while, and that this would probably equal me losing all time/energy/will to work on comics anymore. and to be honest, i felt sorry for myself, but i didn't really give a shit anymore. i'm sure i haven't had a bad life compared to a lot of people. most of the bad or regrettable things that have happened to me happened because i put myself through them. i have a talent for putting myself in bad situations and being permanently stuck with the consequences, forever saddled with the repercussions of a few carelessly-made actions.

i honestly felt like part of me had died, and i mourned it. i was never going to "make it." i would never draw for my supper. i saw myself as all the middle-aged, saggy, aged far beyond their years women i see at work all the time. divorced, alone, miserable, with two or three children, one or two bankruptcies under their belts, usually from a medical emergency or two, working two or three jobs just to keep a roof over the heads of themselves and their families. dead-eyed, tired. if they had ever had dreams or aspirations before, it wasn't there now. when it comes down to it, survival is all that matters. it doesn't matter if life isn't worth living, just as long as you keep living so you can make the cash.

i had given up and resigned myself to a life of artless drudgery last night. i had decided when i got home after my friend's birthday party i would delete/throw away everything that had ever indicated that i had existed in any kind of artistic capacity and disappear into a life of worker bee anonymity. i have never had these kinds of thoughts before, no matter how upset i've been. it was a true low point.

then that night my friend, though drunk, still had the presence of mind to pull me aside and talk to me/lecture me about how i should just get my shit together and go for it. at first i was kind of pissed, because i've had people tell me this before, and they don't understand what it is like living with my crippling insecurities. they don't understand that it's near impossible for me to "just finish something." that for all my "brilliant talent" that i've been "blessed" with, i also have a hair-trigger self-destruct mechanism. but after talking it out and really thinking about it, i think i'm beginning to get a clearer picture of what other people see in me. "Go to Toronto!" he said. "You're the most talented person I know, and also do the least with what you have." i was a little embarrassed that someone was so onto me. i never thought anyone really paid attention. the truth hurts.

so i was hurt. then i felt good. and i kind of flip-flopped all night. and i got drunk. and today i have sores on my feet from walking  a couple miles barefoot on rough concrete. and this morning i called off work to stay home to sleep and drawand think. and maybe this is just bad decision #4,566,675,980, but maybe it is time i "just finish something."