Art Is Hard…Pt 1

I often ask myself when I am going about my day, “What is life?”

I mean, what am I really doing here? I wake up, take care of my hygiene, get on the computer and then skate. On days I got school, I’ll do some studying and may even knock out my homework but thats it. I am literally doing nothing that makes me feel like I have accomplished something. I used to daydream a lot back in high school of where I would be by the age of 22 or 23. Here I am 20, still living with my parents, have no car, no credit, or anything that can say “Hey, this man is finically stable.” I feel miserable everyday I get up and do shit. The only thing in life that makes me feel complete and content with life is skateboarding. Even with skateboarding I run into problems such as falling or the weather decides to switch up. I still have my family all in my ear saying that I should stop skateboarding and because some sucker ass lawyer but what fun would that be?

The point is, the idea…the dream…the whatever the hell I had when I was younger has fizzled away and I’ve become another product of the lower class society in America. I’m considered a rebel, a kid who has chosen to go against the system and is called a hipster. Yeah, I said it, but I look like a bum so the word Hipster doesn’t even cut it. More like another “nigga” walking the face of this earth. I’ve also come across a shit ton of conclusions, I’ll list them below,

  • I’ve failed at life
  • Have a hard time talking to females
  • My family is against my dreams in life
  • UPS hates my existence = my job sucks
  • and a bunch of other shit I’d rather not name

The shit I’m naming off and complaining about is probably the same bullshit many other young adults are going through. But is it really like this? Are we supposed to suffer and work long strenuous hours, maxing out our mental capacity’s?! And for what?! What I am doing right now that is benefiting me in any way, shape or form? I’m fucking trying man…I’m fucking trying. Every time I turn around my dads in my face about his business, my mom is asking for money, and my sister is being rude to people by not speaking. Why can’t I simply have one good day? One day where I can just skate and come home to a meal and my lady making my favorite pie?

I remember asking my friend Danny what the meaning of life is. He told me that life is a blank canvas and you can paint anything. I thought about it and was like “Wow, I fucking suck at art.”

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