My palette is arranged and my brush in hand.
I am ready to fill my bristles with the blues, yellows, and reds and be cautious of the greens, oranges, and purples.
You see I suffer from anxiety from my canvas.
I am constantly trying to copy and recreate my lovers smoothness of his skin with the brown, and sliding in the yellow for the brightness of his life without letting them mix. A ugly golden color appears from the mix and with my hands shaking thinking about his perfect structure and my happiness with him.
Trying to draw a family portrait with Mommy, Daddy, my Brother and dog; only to realize that I don't have a picture to go from.
Daddy is non existent, Brother had blood dripping on the seasaw and Mommy is the only one who made it.
I would thank God for my imagination but why must I imagine what seems to be easily obtained by Sally and Jimmy? Oh well.
My friends are the least of my problems. I'll just draw some with half faces.
But me?
Just a splash of black.. a touch of red, a little of orange and a lot of purple.
You won't understand my color scheme until you see my whole canvas.