The piece tries my limit in insistence and integrity. I am obsessed with both of them. It is almost impossible for me to this stage and decide to stop. I hate it because it suffers me more than anything I made. It haunts me all the time and the thoughts are not pleasant, because it proves to me once and once again that these new ideas will not work, which is so frightening. I am not disturbed by the chaos, I am disturbed by itself. It points to my greatest defect—fear to face my defects directly—once and once again. My skillful self-conceit can always find ways to hide and cover them with good reasons, but I don’t think I can just face them right and square because I fear their exposures and I judge them all the time.

I have extreme emotions when I am unsatisfied with myself when I look at the mess I created, but I also infatuate my state of self-satisfaction, when I can only acquire once in awhile in the state of self-oblivious when painting.