Divorce

I figured it out! My love/hate relationship with art. It goes deeper than just my feelings toward modern art, or video art, or my tastes....It's psychological.

I dated a girl, Colleen, for about a year. I was bored after that. I looked out the windows of our relationship like I was trapped in a snow encased cabin. I wanted to be free, to stretch my legs, forgetting how warm it was inside. So I left.

I. Came. Crawling. Back.

Then, the same feelings reemerged. Trapped, looking out, I needed another change. I was gone, again. She cut off all contact and that gave me time to forget why I left her in the first place. I built her up in my mind, erasing her faults, erasing that feeling of anxiety. I wanted her back. But it was too late.

Then I dated another girl, Sandy. Sandy was someone I had known for a long time and we ended up together the way I could tell we would. And then came the cabin fever. I was trapped again. I didn't really want this, I just liked the idea of having someone. So I called it quits rather fast, to save her from myself. But I couldn't stay back for long, and I stood outside her walls trying to claw myself back in. She opened the door reluctantly but kept guarded as I forced my way through the thresh hold. I was back in. As her guard fell I felt like I had won and there was no longer a need to stay.

It is the same way with art. I have been in a relationship with art since high school and as the years go by it just gets more serious. First it was cute; I would use art to make my friends laugh at the lunch table, I'd use it to keep myself occupied in boring classes. Then we started sleeping together. And you know how art treats that, it's like you're MARRIED after that. I was now studying art, my classes were packed with it, it was going to be my life's goal. I knew that I wasn't going to do any better so I put a ring on art's finger and ever since I've been dreading the wedding day. It's like a count down to my execution.

Well, I'm sorry art, but after May of this year I think we should have a break. Let me get my mind off of you for a second, let me forget your detriments and fantasize about you like I did when I was a kid. Give me time and pretty soon I will think of nothing but tearing off that paint splattered apron and laying you down on a bed of newsprint so I can make sweet, furious love to you.