When I talk about art, it’s not without a slight tinge of regret. Art was my first love. Truly deeply madly head over heels kinda love. I was late for my first day of kindergarten because I wouldn’t stop drawing. As an adolescent, I remember being barely functional in the mornings because I had stayed up the night before sketching away. When my family fought, I went to my bedroom and painted. As a young adult barely scraping by, it was the thing I did to keep me entertained and focused. Art has always been there for me which I guess is why I often take it for granted. It’s like an unappreciated girlfriend that loves you no matter how bad you screw up. That’s no way to treat a lady.
I’d like to say I’ve changed and that it won’t happen again but hey, I don’t have all the answers. Sure we had some rough patches, but our time together wasn’t all bad.
Right now it’s 2am and I’m gonna spend some time getting reacquainted. Hey there gorgeous. Remember me?
