And then there are those times in your life when you watch the colors mix. From a clear palette of blue red yellow and green, there's now a big blob of grey brown sludge that you just want to wash away. But that's the only bit of paint you have left so you wonder if you can use it to paint something. You try, but the more you try to paint the more you think your painting skills suck. You blame the paint for its runniness, blame the palette for not being smooth, blame the brush for being too soft, the paper for being too thin. But you know what, the problem really lies with me. Everyone thinks the color is nice, that shade of gray. And they think the picture is lovely. They tell you so and think you're crazy for not liking it. You want to start afresh, paint something else, but they all say, keep going cos that picture's gonna bring you great things. It's gonna be worth a lot, people are clammering for it, wishing they can have it.

I'm not a good painter. I suck at painting, really.

I'm tired... of? myself. I'm too critical, too judgemental, too impatient. I like to think I live in a perfect world, where people are all good at heart, where everything happens like they should in a fairytale or a happy movie. But I know, I'm just not grown up or mature enough to realize that this idealistic world doesn't exist. The world out there is not what I think it is or hope it to be. I'm not as good as I make myself out to be, and I should stop hoping that the rest of the world is any good either.

I criticize people too much. I say too much, wish for too many things. And ultimately, that's the root of everyone's unhappiness. Got to just step out of that picture you know? You take one critical nutcase out of the world and so many people are happier. No one likes being told that they're bad. If I can't live in my idealistic bubble, the least I can do is try not to bluff others that their bubbles don't exist.