Xander Mason


I am constantly at war with myself and my surroundings. An artist is a tormented soul, but does it have to be quite this sour? If only for a moment, just so that I may breathe, I wish the world would stop spinning.

As the world spins, so do my eyes, glitching backing and fourth. Spiraling out of focus, losing site of the objective. My heart spins as I ride a rollercoaster. “World Famous” for having the most corkscrews and a notoriously bumpy ride.

I feel like picking up my pen and writing until my hand gives out or the ink runs dry. I also feel like throwing the pen, breaking it into a million little pieces. Watching the plastic shatter and the ink splatter across the wall. I feel like watching some part of art hurt the same as it’s so unjustly hurt me.

To live feeling mediocre. To reside in “is this all I’ll ever be?”

Sending my love.