I get so lost in my head sometimes. Who am I really? Where is it I want to go? Am I doing it right? The questions always linger, and the negative chatter will always seep in. You are doing it wrong. Why can't you be like everyone else? Just be normal. But what is normal anyway? Does anyone know? The second I stop dreaming, my fire goes out and my smile goes away. There is nothing more defeating.
For me, painting is my outlet. That place where I don't have to know what normal is. That place where I don't have to follow the rules and I can just close my eyes and feel. Feel love, hope, beauty. I listen to music and I sing and I dance. I never plan what to paint. I just grab whatever colour I want, a sponge, pallet knife, my hands - it doesn't matter. No one is there to tell me I can't. No one is there to tell me to stop making a mess, telling me I just went outside the line, or that the splash of paint doesn't belong there. But it does. That splash is exactly where it is supposed to be. It is all part of it. It is a part of the process, and that for me, is everything. Even my own inner voice can't be heard, because I am not listening. I am listening to nothing, functioning on pure intuition. Pure energy. Pure bliss.
Maybe I am doing it wrong. You assume that the person next to you has it all together, and that they have it figured out. And maybe they do. But I only know me. I only know how to do me. That is my normal. Anything else is wrong.