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I come from...

I come from…

I come from where relaxation is thought of as drawings of uptown dresses and chic leather bags
My purpose in the world is posted in a small white envelope, where my folded sheets of paper contain my art for the body and inspiration for the soul
A 1:1 ratio of dream versus reality struck, when the realization of missing support and insight came about to my family, being a future designer was incoherent to my life, it seemed like
They felt as though I would always start but never finished anything
The vibes they gave affected me and I looked up and I noticed it reflected me
I had lost the passion to make the girl next door, the rebel, and the boho look and feel good
I had doubted my wish, and made it become into a one in a million chance
Shortly I produce more career paths that I can follow, better yet they were following me









being good with children or a poetry fan was brainwashing
The thought being a preschool teacher or telling an audience my spoken word or being a home

decorator and whatever else this world does, was blocking my runway vision
Made my own self give up on myself, fashion was what defined me, and now I have nothing
Now if I’m angry angrier angriest or sad I always pull out a notebook and draw 3 to 4 pieces
And prepare to take them back to the white envelope
I’m not sure if this is being done because this one of my best skills and it also relaxes me
Or that angriness reminds me of letting go my dream, and that drawing matching belt and shoes motivates me to fall back into it
Soon I hope to continue to pick up where I left off, and am more dominant than my emotions
Or things will return back into an error in this fashion era





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