Đ₳₥Ø₦ ฿₳₭ɆⱤ ✟

I guess I always tend to put myself through an emotional journey. It starts off with intrigue and fascination, then i steer it into a sort of love, one i hope that encapsulates my entire soul for the duration of the creativity, especially the beginning, so i can feel all the heightened emotions and see nothing else around me but my muse. Then it steers into the pain and the reality of the loss, the reality of the fantasy crashing to pieces. But that’s where creativity burns for me, maybe stronger sometimes than the beginning. Inevitably that journey comes to its end but the art through it is born and then lives for the people, whomever to consume. And for me, it leaves me and no longer needs me and in a way i abandon it. And that’s the end of the story for that moment. And it hurts. And then i do it all again. I guess that’s my process really. In a way i fall in love every single time i create and i also fall out of it every time i create. A platonic love story. Never a sexual or perverse one. One of true connection and emotion. A dance of the souls for just a moment, until it’s gone. But immortalised forever outside of my consciousness, from which it was born.