I painted pictures again. This time I had a bit of green paint so I used that as well. Though it was thicker than I really wanted. Rather than paint, I find that I prefer working with ink because the color just bleeds onto the paper; which feels appropriate somehow, like an extension of me. But all black is sometimes too dark. There are moments that require splashes of color. If I could find colored ink... Or perhaps I'll try watercolors. Something soft.
Anyway, I think I might have found a new hobby. Pretty exciting, right?!
Recently, I've been thinking that maybe for a while there I was trying too hard to be what I wanted to be rather than what I actually am. So now I'm going through old things and discovering what still fits and what doesn't, and at the same time giving new things a go.
And I love taking pictures.
My step-dad likes photography as well. Someday I'd like to go with him somewhere and spend the day taking pictures.
The rose tinted glasses weren't enough for me.
I believe in you. I want to believe in me. I'm a bundle of contradictions. Aspiring to be set free. I want to receive. I want to give. To let life flow through me; to simply breathe.
A paradox. A window. A broken dream.
Black and white and everything in between. Overflowing yet longing. Fresh but unclean. These words, they don't quite capture what I mean or what I see. I'm me, I'm me, I'm me! Whatever that turns out to be.