A story about a young teen loner, who probly should be getting back to work instead Of protagoizeing..
It was raining outside, as I sat on my art stool and glanced out of the 2nd story window. It was days like this that made me question weather I'm sane or not. A lot has been has happening recently, and its starting to become unbearable.
I put my pencil down, as my once broken wrist was starting to become sore. I got up and grabbed my coffee cup for anther refill. was it strange for a fourteen year old girl to be drinking coffee? I didn’t think so but a lot of people I've met over the past couple months made it seem like I was he only teenager live who drank coffee, which made me rather irritated.
I always hated when this happens. I have the urge to paint, or make art, or at least something to get my mind off of the constant torment going on at the moment., and I cant. I look at the page and it along with my mind stays blank.
The torment of my friends, stress and constraint criticism from my art career that is headed nowhere. And the constraint pain of my own mind weighing me down, my father being ill, my mother being long gone to the point that I cant even recognize her voice anymore.
Dealing with my best friend, a schizophrenic who cannot afford his medication, slowly drifting off into his own world filled with hatred, Although from my standpoint there's not a whole lot of difference between the two worlds my friend seems to be drifting on.