The artist

Occasionally, two people in the world are perfect for each other in that time, in that space, but too shy to admit it, a third party comes in and forces them to collide, causing a collision that changes every aspect of their life.

This happened yesterday, and despite the fact that I like to keep details as vague as possible this is something that I would like to share in its (almost) entirety.

So I am visiting the Big Apple again, there is no beach this time only people just existing as they meander through the throes of people. I’m with three friends for my last weekend of “freedom” and we’re having a blast at the biggest toy store in the world.

During our runs, I find this amazing face painter and they convince me, the shy child that I am, to get my face painted.

And I do, and it’s wonderful.

So we move to Central Park where many photographs by strangers are taken of me, and for the first time in my life I feel almost invisible – not out of loneliness – but invisible in the sense that others are watching me and judging and I don’t care anymore. I can hide behind something.

So at some point my friend spies a jazz band and we watch and listen for a good long time. I get compliments on my face paint and I smile, then my smile and then my clothes.

In the process, all three of my friends are asleep and I am just sitting there listening, when this young man sits near our vicinity. He’s college aged, dressed decent and pulls out a notebook and pen. He begins to draw.

I’m captivated: every stroke he makes is to the beat of the music, the details are infinite and the creativity and passion are in his hands. In a way I’m jealous, through the paths of which I’ve taken throughout my time blogging I lost that ability. I made up excuses and refused to listen to others stating I had a problem.

My friend notices my interest and pressures me to talk to him. Scared, I refuse. He talks to him for me and it creates a spark between both of us that’s completely unexplainable.

So for the rest of the night, he’s with our little group, talking, making friends and whatnot and it’s nice. But my friends being the people who they are, force us to be alone so subtly that we end up alone most of the time. There’s no hand holding or anything like that, just mutual admiration.

“Even if it hurts, get into the habit of drawing everyday. It seems like you lost your spirit.” He says to me, eyeing a sketchbook for me. Eventually I buy it and shuffle for a pen in my purse. (The elusive purse of which everything gets lost).

I begin drawing and he gives me every material he has. I turn shades of color suddenly realizing what my friends were trying to do for hours.

We get back home and I remove the face paint and dress casually, and his face lights up in a way I’ve only seen done a few times.

Unfortunately we have to part ways, no words of love and admiration were passed or physical security. But we know.

Some things are better not said. Some things are better untold.


Sometimes I imagine you walk past me with your middle finger in the air trying to get me to hate you.

Sometimes I do hate you.

But I know deep down its not hate, it’s a defense mechanism meant to try and cope with the loss that you enabled.

Its a hard form of love that I shouldn’t even hope to touch and you’re resigned to use it just so that I can forget how much I love you.

Unfortunately, my arms are wide open, hoping, waiting for you to come back into them and let me show you my heart.

But unfortunately I know that that won’t happen and I’m not going to chase you. And you know that it’s better to let me go on my way.

I walk with my hands in my pockets and my head poised toward the ground, dragging my feet slightly trying to hide the fact that I too am resigned; I too am hurt.


I just read a story about how a girl who was accepted to a very prestigious college is asking for help to stay in.

She’s a good student, she’s working hard, but the money isn’t flowing. She’s asking for an online donation.

The cost of her tuition is more than most soldiers make a year. And that’s only one semester. I disagree on helping because college is just a name, just a place. Education can be free if you want it, if you work for it.

I’m going to a college expense-free because I worked for it. I wanted it. I’m going to one of the top ten colleges in the united states because of this.

People are arguing that I’m being too harsh – perhaps I am. But at the same time I couldn’t go to college in the first place because the money wasn’t flowing and I made the sacrifice to move and pay my way. Not solicit by begging.


I get angry very easily, but I hide it. When I do lose it though I get belligerent in my actions and words.

Mostly words. I know how to use them if I need to.

Last night was a mix of emotions: betrayal, pain, anger. I used my words on a dear friend telling him he needed to grow up.

He didn’t take it well.

Then again, who would? A twenty-year-old telling a twenty-two-year old what to do. It never sits well.

That and mixed with when you tell everybody how great a person somebody is and they go ahead and step on you like you don’t exist makes you wonder.

People wonder why I have trust issues. And why I keep my mouth shut and my opinions closed. People are disgusting.

Especially me, for letting them walk all over me and justifying it.


It’s a painful realization to know that you’ve been replaced completely. That you were just there got somebody’s rough times and they discard you as soon as they find somebody “better”.

What they don’t know is that the “better” person won’t be with you forever either. You’ve just yourself to have and to hold.

I’m fine with this. Truly I am.


I find myself constantly wondering if this was the right decision; whether rejecting the one person who I truly had feelings for from marriage was the right choice.

In two weeks my life will change again and this time it’ll be worse before it gets better. Its a milestone and its amazing in the sense that I will be doing something even more incredible than last year. I will have achieved so much.

And why am I so scared? I find myself standing knee deep in a pool shivering. My mind is wandering at a million miles hoping for some form of clarification. I’ll never know the answers. I’ll just trust God. But I’m terrified because I’m content where I am right now.

I could have had a family by now, I could have been happy. Instead, I dove head first into the unknown.

What I do know from this is that I’ll have changed. I’ll have been worthy. I’ll have been so many things I have not been or even considered myself to be.

And I’ll have support when I don’t think I have any.

“I walked out of your life because it seemed like the right thing to do – that I’d hold you back from you being you.”