Random story

Honestly, I’m struggling to draw well due to depression so I won’t be doing that. I will write randomly.

I sat on my bed, thinking of what happened. The same thoughts over and over; I didn’t cry, I didn’t scream. I looked to my left of my room—all my notebooks laid in a pile…there was so much potential inside of them, many great thoughts and ideas…however, it was nothing. Nothing at all. I looked to my right and saw my assignments that I’ve done that I hated.

Seeing these objects broke me into tears and anger. I pulled out an utility knife and slashed through the canvas until it was sliced to pieces. Small memories of what it was before, leaving only the wood. It was cathartic.

I went through my art supplies to find my glue.

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