I see my past play out in other peoples lives. There is a great need within me to save myself & them from what I know is to come. This need comes in the form of a rage that I set things on fire with. It’s incredibly suffocating living in this gray area. I can’t change the past nor the future. I’m stuck drowning in this abyss of a gray area in between the two. The world has lost all of its color. I’ve never given up searching for it in art, fabrics, and photographs. Where I live, the skies are always gray. People are gray. The grass is gray. I’m sad for the world. I believe there was a time it was beautiful. One day, maybe someone will paint it again.
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