September 5th, 2018

This will be the start of my online journal. My name is Jenn, but I go by Cloudy. This account was part of an assignment given to me by a teacher. In knowing how much I write she suggested I entered contests. So I searched everywhere and I found myself here. I decided to make a journal while I worked on my other writing projects for a reason I do not yet know. I will admit, I never took a proper English grammar class. But my writing is my soul. When I write, everything just flows out of me, when I want to cry, my writing is my tears. When I’m happy my writing is my laughter. It knows the deepest parts of me that even I can’t quite place. I am currently working on a book about the supernatural and the depths of hell. At the same time I am entering challenges every day and writing my poetry. For a long time, I saw my poetry as a guilty pleasure.

Two years ago I almost died, and I threw all my sketchbooks, journals, paintings, awards, music in a fire. And every day I regret and am proud of that choice. The child I was then was insecure and didn’t understand what being happy meant. My drawings were full of gore, my writings were full of self harm and blood stained pages, my paintings were dark and lonely, my awards reminded me of what I thought would be the last time I’d ever make my parents proud, my music was dull and inspirationless. These were my chains. I forced myself into the fine arts because I needed an outlet. But all I wanted was to be happy, an emotion I felt was lost.

My art is no longer one sided. It gives back to me. And so do those who read and encourage me. I don’t intend to be a professional in any of my fine art aspects. But I do intend to keep writing in my freetime. And my experiences allow me to do so.