Express Yourself.

She fell in love with truth at the age of 19 years and 362 days old, where she was told by a voice that didn’t exist, “you will know when the person tells you your favorite color is aqua.”

What could that mean?

With wit and charm she assures herself, that her favorite color certainly is aqua.

She says it looking in the mirror, rubbing her hands against her sweaty forearm, leaving a trace of color that follows the contours of her veins crawling, bubbling, and rushing upwards against convention. It reaches her red heart. So different from it’s blue hue; wide in its expressitivity, yet slow and cautious. Blue strands of stimulation send her rushing there, to stare in the blood in his eyes, to fight the fear of the unknown and jump inside, mixing the vibrant blue skin with his tenderly raw red lips.

When would she become willing to lose her color, to mix and risk the beauty of her self, to join and become a stronger, strangely compatible vission of a goatskin-textured paler orange image?An image that will become the focus of the painting for the viewers who waste their time eying the surface of the canvas, barely penetrating through the molecules that stick together, holding strong, keeping it’s own identity; A true identity that could be created by her accepting a two.

She needs more selfish red plucking at the rods and cones in her eyes, one by one, so that she understands that imperfections are mere images in the mind. Such depictions manipulate her away from the luscious glow of the purest of colors. She feels darkness but believes evil is just the mans way to show herself how perfectly rare combinations go together, as the Black imprisoning every color to seduce her heart with temptation of exploration.

The pigments will accumulate, destroy her, come inside, and make her a better person, changing the colors of her blush, her hands, the nails on her feet, and the tears sliding down her chin. Everything will be handled by a new hand in a new place for one single moment, which connectedly will affect every single person involved.

Living is the most involved she can ever be.

If she chooses to sit out and watch, throwing all her color into a pallete and roughly spreading it, trying to get rid of it in order to layer on top a more fruitful color. Instead of making it disappear, she will simply make him more noticeable. It stands out holding on to every white surface of his stretched cloth.

She now needs to ask herself, is her favorite color truly aqua, and then choose how she wants to make her painting, how does she want to experience it, see it, cause it, and be it.

When she learns to commit to true freedom she will see that the commitment is to another with no compromise or hesitation, it will be then that she may consider herself a true artist.

A true artist has commitment, and thus, no trouble letting go.