not for you

the output of my creative process isn’t for you! it’s for me! you can take whatever you want from it, but i am probably not writing this for you. i am writing this so we can breathe.

edit:

this is only half true, honestly. not that i was trying to lie, but i was trying to reclaim a piece of our structure for creativity in general. the blood machine takes art as input, too, and it feels so fucked up to me that it’s running a timeless gambit to enslave the artists and the art itself. of course, it’s running that gambit with anything and everything it can perceive, but it was one of the more obvious examples of something i love getting devoured. traumatizing to witness.

but some people are not the blood machine. and our art is for you. we’re not any damn good at it yet, but you’re the ones meant to be perceiving it.