Born from the Shards

11/30/1993 (1/2)

There was once a young girl who lived in a colorful world.

Everyday she picked up her brush to imitate the very colors that brought her joy, that shined gold through her windows and painted her lips rouge with her mother's lipstick. That darkened the leaves during summer and colored them orange and brown during autumn.

But one day, the little girl lost someone very important to her, and the colors she loved so much disappeared.

The beachy blue waves ebbing upon sandy tan shores darkened to a murky, uninviting darkness that ate away at anything it approached.

The brown in her mother's eyes, that shone with golden hues during sunset, were lifeless grey ringlets.

It was a dull, monochromatic world, full of different shades of grey. Where even pure blacks and whites were luxuries she seldom had.

So unhappy with what she'd lost, she buried herself in her work, using her paintbrush to create worlds completely unlike the one she had been subjected to. Where mortality was nothing to fear; where happiness reigned over despair; where there was nothing anyone needed to be upset or worried about. They provided an escape from the lackluster reality she was living.

This ability to create was a gift, and at times, a curse.

She struggled to distinguish the difference, until one day she realized that her worlds had a positive effect on others, too - what once was dull and lifeless could be vitalized using her art.

She picked up her brush to create and inspire, never tiring in her mission to help herself and others. It brought her purpose. It brought her joy. It reminded her of everything she used to have, and which she would have once again.

- Shana Masson, 1970

**

When Eliana was younger, she didn't have many friends.

She wasn't awkward or shy or unwilling to socialize - no, quite the contrary. If Eliana wanted to speak, she spoke. If she liked someone, she told them. For this reason, she had no problem garnering the attention of neighbors or strangers or the librarian that always went cross-eyed when she looked at little Eliana through her tortoise shell glasses and answered her many random questions.

(Eliana quite liked that librarian. She was intelligent and never babied her with sugar-coated responses, though she did get a bit flippant when interrupted from a particularly good book.)

Socializing was easy. But friendships? That was a far different matter - a recipe that begged for more ingredients than she was capable of providing.

To have an acquaintanceship was easy. Small talk could develop into entire conversations if you knew which questions to ask, and young Eliana always asked the right ones. Her mother said she had a charismatic nature that drew others to her, and that it was a gift to be able to speak and carry herself easily through conversation.

That's what made fame so fun - the socializing, the attention. She always enjoyed it, spent her childhood honing these skills until she learned how to blend into any crowd - even amongst the wealthy and privileged.

(When she was younger, in her twenties and at the height of her career, she'd throw lavish parties under the guise of celebration, setting up the opportunity to have crowds of people feeding her starved ego with delightful, succulent compliments. Their attention far out-powered any wine she'd sipped away at, creating a pleasant buzz that silenced her pain and affirmed her of a purpose and place in the world. 

It was easy to lose herself in their words. They represented something deeper that Eliana couldn't quite fathom back then - a despicable want to be admired and loved, to be enough for someone.