Paint Marks

White

I can't paint anything.

All that comes to mind is just a blank screen. A tv that only shows static. A game that freezes and glitches. A room with no furniture.

That's what I feel. Nothing.
No motivation. No inspiration.

The canvas was so white and so threatening. I had all of the paints ready and set out in front of me. The glasses filled with water and the paper towel set right on the table.
They stared at me with such suffocating looks.

I can only hear the cars driving by and mocking me. Making me feel like I'm the one at fault. It wasn't my fault. They did this to themselves. They look so 3D but they are so 2D. The words and looks they give me are so terrifying. They look at my paintings and say that I did fantastic. I only hear the background. They keep on saying that the paintings are childish and so used.

I'll show them what's childish and used. The yelling is childish and their attitudes are so overused.

They won't make me feel like a fool. Those parents of mine. And the stares of my friends and family.
They'll see.
They will all see the horrific images my brain likes to send me. They will see what I dream. They will see what I hear in my head.

With just one look at my paintings.
They'll know.
They have to know.
Or else my own paintings will suffocate me in my sleep.