Three steps back.

"I had an abortion-- And I did crack while I was pregnant. Other than that, I'm okay."




This was written in my hand writing on a piece of paper that read "Go home; make a journal," "Today it thundered and snowed," "I learned how to type today, thank God."


The typing part was a sarcastic note. The rest, was true. I had sketched out a journal that I needed to make for class and there was in fact a day that it thundered and snowed all at once.
I do not, however, EVER remember having an abortion, doing crack, or being pregnant.
Where this came from, I'm not sure. But I'm a little concerned for the well being of the past me. Creative, sure. But that's one hell of a plot line to make for myself.


On a neon green sheet of paper with more scribbled words I read the following;

"90% of the time I feel like I want to fly. But I can't draw a bird. Or a wing. Or a feather."

Next to it was a feather. And a sad penguin. This statement still holds ridiculously true. I can't draw anything avian.

I had also sketched a liquor bottle spilling out, creating The Great Wave of Hokusai.
That was a good idea.
What happened between then and now? A lot of life.
I think maybe I need to pull back on life a little bit and get back to those basics. Crazy or not, that's my core spilled onto scraps of paper. And maybe life has kind of stepped on that core a little bit.
My mom asked me to take a painting class.
Asked me to.
She wants me to paint a series of eyes, and sell them on the black market.
Or just sell them.
Or paint a bunch and give them to her because she liked the one I painted over the summer.


She said it reminded her of a bird.
So, I guess I can do avian. If it's in the form of an eye.