It's never good to love oneself.
Especially your art.
To listen to compliments is like seeking out nourishment from cotton candy.
I am never satisfied with art, as neither am I complete in the presence of another equally damaged as myself.
There is supposedly good in everyone well, that said, know **** well the rest is made up of pure **** and self-loathing.
Time has taught me to hate society.
From liars to ladder climbers, I have little to no use.
It's all a con, and I simply refuse to play the game.
The poison consumes me slowly as the earth awaits my collapse.
Tomorrow is another day.
Unfortunately.