I painted today...

So, I've tried to start this entry 3 different times and I can't nail down a solid sentence...I'm just gonna go for it. Whatevs.

I painted today. I went out to Hobby Lobby, spent some money (hated that part) and bought some brushes, paints, and some canvas. I had no picture in mind of what I wanted to create so I just went for it, hoping something decent would come from it. As I was painting, I couldn't keep my hands out of the paint or off the canvas. Who cares about the brushes, right? I probably used a lot more paint than I needed to and got myself much dirtier than I should have, but I just wanted to dig myself into something. My guitar strings need to be changed real bad and I didn't feel like doing that...so, I painted. I stuck my ear buds in and went to town. After every layer of paint I looked at it and hated it. Every time I put the brush or my hands on the canvas, I hated whatever I had just done. I thought, "What the hell was I thinking?! This is stupid." After going through a few cycles of pessimistic thought, I remember thinking to myself, "Does it matter? No one has to see this. Just paint."

So I did.

I know that this piece of "art" (if you can even call it that) is not pleasing to the eye. It's dirty, ugly, bloody, dark, mysterious, and a whole bunch of other things. But, no one has to see it. Only me.

Could this be a reflection of my heart? My soul? Everything on that canvas and what it represents...? No one has to see it but me and I have lived my life making sure no one sees it. This painting, as it sits in my room, means something. It's raw. It's real. It's...me?