Feeling vastly unpopular, unreached, disconnected, lied to.

Unpopular in the sense that my paintings have a paltry 25 "likes" on facebook, compared to so-n-so who has over 11,000.

I just think, "What the fuck?" It's because I'm not reached and connected to my audience.

I know of ONE person who I feel understands my work genuinely. I have a couple admirers who I don't know in real life.

It's a lot for me to take when I put myself out there and publicly post a painting I have poured my heart into and the response is cold silence. Utter apathy.

Well, no one gives a shit.

I'm here on my pity pot and I feel very alone. I am very frustrated. I need attention.

To survive, I need to be popular. I need to make money on paintings.

It is a pathetic world today of what seems like so much rejection. I am unemployed. So many people are unemployed. We look, we get nothing.

And it comes back to my paintings. I have all this time on my hands so I paint. I have to make a living off painting.

Trying to grasp who my audience is by examining past sales, who bought it, and what was purchased. I have a basic idea.

Lied to in the sense I know what real love is and I'm fed up with people who throw the word around casually. In recent, a friend who promises love and doesn't deliver.

I miss Renata. That was the attention I needed and got. Out here in the burbs, unvisited by others, no one to hang out with, I realize it is up to me to embrace some degree of solitude. This is it. Renata died. Face it. It's lonely.

Feeling insane. They say Van Gogh was insane. No, he was lonely.

Rejection is more painful than I ever imagined.