Today I decided to be constructive. I pulled out my paints, some brushes and a glass of water and decided I was going to paint a gift for my sweetie. Unfortunately, I am too broke to afford a new canvas. So, being the resourceful woman that I am, I pulled out one that I had started and abandoned months ago. It was a dark depressing self portrait of a girl with snarled hair and blood red lips by the sea. I smiled as I realised that I am no longer 'the girl with the empty eyes' and decided to paint over her.
How I wish I could paint over certain conversations I've had recently. She has been peeking through the curtian I shoved her behind. And thats scary. But as I painted over her- I somehow felt a few more shackles fall from my ankles. It renewed my faith that in time I will be able to dance without ceasing... Oh how excited I am for the time when she will be nothing more than a subtle scar in my memory.