Love of self burns within.
Bleeding hearts, eerie skeleton-like figures, minimalistic design, grayscale markers...my style is becoming more and more prominent in everything that I do.
Why have I suddenly become obsessed with depicting decaying love? I guess it's because I see so many people gripping "love" to their chests with so much force that it is squelched dry and left broken on the floor. What kind of love is that? It's false, and small, and can't be left alive. This "love" is love of self, and it burns within until there is nothing left.
No comments:
Post a Comment