An artist life

I suppose if I didn’t find love, or never find it, I would live the rest of my life as an artist. I’m okay with that. It’s not necessarily the life that I intended. In my youth, I’ve always thought that love was something that’d work itself out, but it doesn’t, and I think part of that is my fault but also part of that is just the time we live in. It’s really difficult to fall in love with someone in the status quo. We have so many options and distractions everywhere. Love is just very hard in this day and age. I just can’t put a handle on why. Maybe it’s the technology and the superficial connections it enables.  

But if I were to live a loveless life, it would be at least one devoted to creating art, whether it be through writing or through architecture. It wouldn’t necessarily be one devoted to making a lot of money. I don’t really think I need money to be happy. I just need to create and keep my brain in perpetual motion. I need to be stimulated intellectually and to express myself a bit in the process. 

I don’t aspire toward fame or anything like that. I’ve already written previously that I don’t really care to be famous. Fame I think can be a product of success so if my work does catch on fire metaphorically, I suppose I wouldn’t mind a little extra attention so long as it doesn’t get in the way of life. 

Yet, love is a conundrum. I think love, at the end of the day, is a nutrient. It’s something that we all need to go on. However, not everyone has the capacity to love or to be loved, for that matter. I’ve never experienced mutual love, so it’s uncharted territory for me. But who knows what the future holds. One thing’s for sure, love is not something one can plan for.