Appreciation 

“Stop. Don’t even think about that.”

“We both can’t do anything about it.”

“You can, so just stop!”

“I believe that artists are truly appreciated only after their death. In a perfect world, they would get their deserved recognition during their time on earth.”

“There is no such thing as ideal conditions. If there were, you wouldn’t even call yourself an artist. Suffering comes with the package.”

“Maybe it was a wrong career path.”

“I thought writing chose you, not the other way around.”

“Sure, but maybe it wasn’t really my calling. Now that I’ve been doing it for such a long time, I feel that it needs someone stronger. Mentally. Someone with a vision. Someone who wouldn’t suffer as much during his pursuit.”

“Pursuit of what?”

“I don’t know.”

“What’s your goal? Why do you write?”

“I don’t have a choice. I do it because it’s equivalent to drinking and eating.”

“Then why did you start?”

“Well because I thought that expressing my feelings would make me feel better. Then I guess, it became an addiction.”

“Maybe that’s why you never get better. Maybe it’s a circle you’ve dragged yourself into.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that maybe you find your inspiration through hard times, write about that, get acclaimed for your writing. But then out of fear of not finding inspiration again, you never let yourself out of this dark place.”

“I don’t think it’s that easy.”

“Maybe it is.”

“I don’t know.”

“Think about it. Maybe you’ve never been depressed in the first place. It was you all along playing tricks on yourself. All for the sake of art. So maybe you were meant to be an artist after all.”

“So I’m doomed.”

“Doomed?”

“I have to die for the sake of my art.”

“Oh god no!”

“Yes.”

“Don’t even go there. Stop playing the victim!”

“And maybe after my death or in another life, I’ll be cherished and appreciated. Life will be great again then.”

“Stop. Don’t even think about that.”

“You can’t do anything about it.”

“But you can, so just stop!”

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