Sitting outside on the old warn steps that lead up to my ocean side apartment, smoking and wearing that same huge sweatshirt, listening to the fountain next door, cars driving by and distant doors slamming…i can see the stars. i realized this is where i have always wanted to be and yet i spend so much of my time feeling insecure and not creative. I don't have an image of what i want to paint and i usually really hate whatever i end up painting. i don't have a dream. well to be honest, I'm living it. but i somehow always forget to remember that. maybe because it doesn't seem big enough somehow, or loud enough. at least according to what i was raised to believe. There is this boy who has captured my heart and who i never stop thinking about. I spend most of my time feeling terrified of losing him and not enough time being happy about it all.