i painted this the same day i painted the green self portrait. i was wearing similar big earrings at the time. otherwise, this page is just a bit of whimsy that means absolutely nothing. normally i am working things out when i paint. but lately, what i need to work out blows beyond the borders of my physical being. it doesn't fit onto paper. it's dark scary stuff. and when i paint those things it tends to freak people out. or make them uneasy. just like when i talk about those sorts of things with people i know. i carry the darkness around with me. it's heavy and painful. then, when i finally can't begin to hold it all anymore i will either leak out little bits or dump the entire pile. regardless of how it shows up in a conversation, it seems that no one i know knows what to make of it. i am usually met with silence or eyes averted. so now i think and think of who i can talk to but there is no one. i turn to the journal and it is empty. the colors bright and meaningless. blank pretty faces churned out make everyone more comfortable than a picture of a pile of a woman sobbing. life isn't always pretty. and when you feel like you are breaking it won't last forever. in the moment, life goes on, if we are lucky, and no one has to tell me that. i know it for certain.