Why SAINT JOHNS?
I've never felt like I belong.
The depression sets in and sits quietly as people go about their seemingly normal lives.
I just want to be normal. But I don't.
I want greatness. I want to follow my dreams. To create.
These emotions have been here since the very start and come back to haunt me in the halls. The red, khaki, white, and black all bring back the visceral knowing that I'm not enough. But am so much better.
The fashion industry is my new SAINT JOHNS.
The same emotions. The same feelings that I'm never going to amount to shit. No matter how hard I try.
The successes don't mean anything. But they're everything.
I'm nothing. I'm everything.
I worked my ass off for 13 years in hopes of making it to heaven (Harvard) just to be rejected at the gates and watch THEM get in.
Even though I definitely didn't belong. Even though I wouldn't have been happy.
I wouldn't be where I am. I worked so hard but didn't work at all.
I settled for SMU in hopes of coasting and taking it easy.
I wanted immediate gratification, like in my paintings, I needed to get my emotions / situation out as soon as possible. It didn't turn out how I expected, like all of my paintings, and I was left broken and disappointed.
I tried the same thing again with design school, only to be left off worse than where I began. More broken than ever.
Then I realized that my problem wasn't THEM, it was ME. The whole fucking time. My depression. My feelings of insufficiency. My grandiosity. My expectations.
I never knew how to control me. I still don't at times, like right now. I want to give up. I'm not good enough. I'll never amount to shit. That's not reality. It's just my fucked up alcoholic mind.
It will pass, as it always does, but this has lasted longer than most depressions.
Everyone has their own SAINT JOHNS.
Everything will be okay. God's got my back.
I just have to keep on looking for Him in every day's storied cloisters.
Photo by Bryan Luna for Highsnobiety