My name is Evan.

If you agree, I’ll tell you my story.

In this everyday world, I’m an artist and musician.
Well, at least it’s what I am in my soul and dreams, ‘cause in the real life I’m a young office clerk, freshly out of an administration school.

So, when I’m telling people I’m an Artist, most people will ask me the same question : « For a living ? », to be translated in « Is it your real job ? ».
Each time I’m hearing this question, which is basically every day, it’s like being pushed out a reality in my face, preventing me to see all my hopes.
« No », I answer, « but it will, this is what I want to do and nothing else ». This is actually an already rounded answer because the truth is that I wonder how I manage to get to the end of my days currently.

At this point, I’m endlessly hearing my mother’s voice telling me that the thing I’m fighting for everyday while bearing with this crappy job I didn’t choose, well, « It is not an occupation », I have « to think about my situation », « my future », it « does not bring the bacon » (true story, such an expression cannot be invented, right ?)

Anyway, my mother does not like my dreams, neither she likes my haircut, my clothes and of course my tattoos. I think the only thing she likes must be this pretty diploma I’ve grabbed to make her happy. I did not have the gut to leave to realize myself. I refused to believe they did not trust my vocation.

Locked in this room, I’m writing, I register some pieces of music on a runned-down PC, I’m singing them not so aloud – so my parents don’t hear that I’m living most of my free time working in order to hope for a better life.

The evening and the weekend, I become a nightly rebel hero, practicing this taboo : I’m playing in the bars, singing for friends, drinking beers. Some girls may even find me pretty, me who I though being lacking and transparent.

As long as I remember, I did not want to be famous. I wanted to be recognized for what I was, for this passion I wanted to practice. But in the end, here I am, small hometown spotlight. For a lot of guys whose dreams are limited to the next house they’ll buy, I’m an erring low-life thinking he is this famous guy when drunk.

I have a lot of buddies, but not many friends. And when I got them, I destroy any kind of meaningful and positive relationships around me. It is as if I did not deserve the interest, in this today « me ». It is not in the right shape, a disguise that I would not bear offering to others.

To sum up, I am just unbearable. This bad boy one like to hate, and that I actually hate myself, secretely in front of the mirror when coming back drunk from my underground evenings.

My life is currently well summed up as living in a flock of Joysuckers. Those people are so much alike… I feel like they all wear a conformity mask, emotionless, they gather in the only aim to break you into this mold of mediocrity and sadness, to shatter any kind of dreams you would have until nothing moves you anymore.

Those are my number one nemesis, but they’are actually not the most dangerous, you can see them easily.

I often find in my friends toxic people. You know all those manipulative narcissistics who are all sweet in front of you and are finally scheming your destruction. Those snakes are the worst, because you don’t see their bites coming until it hurts a lot.

Ha, yeah, sometimes I also get a lovin’ girlfriend. Well she actually loves a lot of people, she comes and goes. But even if it does hurt, I’m accepting this. When alcohol takes its toll and we are cuddling, I would even think she is actually loving me and that I am her only one.

My little naughty lovin’ girl… I don’t know why I’m still with her even if she’s constantly playing with me. I’m not even in capacity to love anyone correctly anyway. Isn’t it true that when you don’t even love yourself, you cannot give love to anyone else ? It heads for a disaster, necessarily.

So now you do know roughly who I am, I would like to share with you those slices of life through this liveblog.

You may often think I am going too far, exagerating ; I’m actually far from reality. You may often find I’m paranoid ; I’m extralucid. You may wonder if I imagined all those stories and chapters, I will welcome you in this world I created specially for me and you, as if it was the last one I could live in.




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