This blog is a very emotional one, written by what I can only describe to you as a "suffering artist"."The concept of the suffering artist. The poetic, intelligent yet tragic persona. A Pre-Raphaelite. That is what we want to be. The starving, suffering artist. We would die for our art, our genius.It excuses our madness and our irrationalities as long as we have that essence, that grandiose quality that makes it all worthwhile. Almost miniscule in comparison to the greater art.These romantic ideals of a genius living a life of imagination and dreams. To surpass all trivial, material needs. This is mine. My un-realistic image of perfection. Very far from perfection in fact but this is what I envisage it to be."
Her life is dominated by her struggles with anorexia, bulimia, depression, mania, self harm and suicidal thoughts.
And so she blogs about it. Her blog posts are possibly the most heartbreaking things I have ever read, occasionally I empathise with her, but mostly the best (and worst) I can do for her I sympathise.
The excerpt that I copy and pasted off of her blog is one of the occasions that I can say that I can empathise with her.
I find that depression helps with my writing, that poetic fantasy of life and death and how it seems more like a destination than a journey, the curiosity of what will happen next, the eagerness to find out if the next life could hurt any more than our own.
To those who have never felt depressed, consider yourself lucky. To those who have never had these obsessions with being a suffering artist, consider yourself sane. Anorexia, bulimia, depression, mania, self harm, suicide, death, these are not beautiful problems, these are very far from perfection and sanity and I would not wish for any of you to put yourself through these for your "art", whether that be writing, painting, photography, film-making, sculpture, drawing....
Please don't aim to be a suffering artist.
If you feel that you need to die for your art, it's not an art at all...
It's a tragedy.
