Van Gough


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I am a Van Gough. I am a priceless Van Gough that I have covered up with black paint because I haven’t been able to recognize me for what I am. For whatever reason I’ve believed that I’m not that Van Gough, but an ugly black mess. I’ve done everything in my control to deface the beauty underneath; pills, cocaine, liquor, lies, deceit, manipulation of innocent people, self mutilation, comical overt aggression toward others, fear, self loathing, over indulgence, etc.

I ask myself, “How then, Smart Guy, have you ever been able to have any positive influence on anything or anyone at all, which you know you have? Riddle me that, Asshole.”

Examples: creation of art, meaningful friendships, giving of yourself to those in need, love, empathy and compassion to those who needed it, speaking up for those who have been unable to do do so for themselves, etc…

Why/how have I been able to do these things and be appreciated by other people at all, ever, if I am truly a disgusting dark mess of crude oil colored paint plastered on this canvas?

It’s because I’m the only one who has been able to see it. I’ve painted it for myself to see. Others may have caught glimpses of it, but the truth is that I’ve always been trying to cover it so that I, myself, could not see it. Underneath still lies the Van Gough. Its been there from the very beginning.

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Now begins the work to restoring it to its original beauty. Because this site is pretty much bullshit and because my personal defense mechanism is to use humor to hide behind, I’ll leave you with this.

This task sounds like a lotta fucking work, so tomorrow I’m cruising by Home Depot and picking up some day laborers. We’ll get it done much quicker, they have a much better work ethic than I do and all it’ll cost me is about $40 a piece, a couple pizzas and a case of Budweiser.

Yours Truly,

Ryan C. Motteram

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(Mike Apathy can kiss my black ass.)

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