"He definitely wants to sleep with you," he taunts.
"Excuse me?" I look at him weirdly, "What are you even talking about."
"The way he touched your arm. That's what people do when they wanna fuck someone." He looks down at his paper and continues to...
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I sketch the giraffes and go on my way. Saying goodbye to the rest of the Rivera's, I walk to my house. The cars gone so that must be mean Sage is at work. He works at a bakery, his food is so damn good.
I lock the door behind me and softly sigh. The house is so quiet when he leaves and I have no idea where my Mom is.
I walk to the kitchen, open the fridge, and stare inside it for a good two minutes before realizing I might be bored instead of hungry.
I stroll up to my room and lay down until I remember I spit up on my cover this morning like a freakin' baby. I groan and take off my sheets as I walk downstairs to start the laundry.
I'm pretty sure I watch the washer spin for a good five minutes before coming to my senses and going to the garage.
I hook up my speaker and blast 'Lana Del Rey'. Picking up a bunch of paint, I grab a blank canvas and sit down on my easel stool before clipping my hair back.
For some reason, light blues are really sticking out to me. I hum along with 'Get Free' as I drag my brush against the blank canvas. I haven't painted for fun in a while. I haven't had the time or the inspiration.
I think painting helps me get out of my brain. That's why I tend to do it when I have no choice but to be alone. I constantly need projects to stop my mind from obsessing.
Peace of mind is not the absence of conflict, but the ability to cope with it. Scott Hawkins.
Art is how I cope.
I dip my brush in the brown and paint some hair. I don't know what I'm drawing yet, it usually just comes to me along the way.
I can't believe I go to Paris next week. Monday is the last day to turn in money. Luckily, Mr. Thomas is allowing me to give him little snippets at a time. I have $200 left to turn in. I'll walk to his class Monday to give it to him. I must remember to ask Sage if he paid yet.
By this time, I'm drawing the bottom of the canvas a light brown.
I'm so tired. I'm very surprised I got out of bed today. For the number of times I've been hungover, I think I might be almost numb to it now. That coffee definitely helped.
It was so sweet of Elijah to do that. Why would he do that though? Especially at such an early time. Especially for me.
Yet, I still can't entirely remember what happened last night. All I remember is flashing lights, headaches, and vomiting.
I can't believe I let a bunny choke me.
Now that I think about it, maybe it's a good thing I went off my meds. I shouldn't of mixed alcohol with it. Yet, there's still a part of me that thinks I should start back on it again.
I just don't want to. I don't want to live off a pill for the rest of my life. I'm in control of my own life, my own emotions, and my own actions, even if I don't feel like it. I feel like I have a problem remembering who I am.
Most of the time, I am not aware of what I deserve so I take whatever's thrown at me, whether it hurts or not. I just keep remembering that this will all be useful someday.
Those days I do not feel sad or angry, just numb. When numbness creeps into me, it's a strange feeling. No highs or lows, it is just a dull ache.
Believe me, I desperately want to be happy but there's this stupid voice in the back of my head screaming that I do not deserve it.
I paint two bodies sitting on the... sand, I think it is.
I will never get over the way art can make me feel. It's not just brush strokes on canvas. It's a dance of color and light, a world of beauty. It's a language that speaks to my soul. A way to express what my words can't quite hold.
I sigh as I go in with a smaller brush to darken the details. My favorite part.
My music continues to play in the background and my racing mind finally shuts off and just focuses on my paintbrush.
I subconsciously smile and finally, sign my initials at the bottom. Standing up, I stretch out my back. I back up and examine the painting.
It's a couple sitting at the beach watching the waves. It's beautiful.
As I inspect, the girl has my hair pattern and the guy sorta has Elijah's.
That doesn't mean anything. He was my source of inspiration. I shrug.
I breathe a laugh until I see the red knitted bracelet Elijah always wears on his right wrist in the picture.
Oh.
Well, shit.
***
A/N:
Hi, my lovelies!! I haven't spoken to you in a while. Thank you so so much for almost 10k reads???!! I love you all! Thank you for your support. I update as fast as I can, but we're almost there, trust me. 💗💗💗
