𝐈𝐬𝐥𝐚 𝐌𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢 -
At the top of all her classes, the mafia princess finds herself keeping her worlds separate from one another. Nothing, no one, could even try to distract her from getting what she wants. However, a certain devilish indiv...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
No One Noticed - The Marías.
My shoulders slump as my mind draws blank for ideas to paint. I swear my creative flow has thrown itself out the window, these days.
Arden and I came back home for our week long break. I think the second I stepped inside my house, I let out a breath I didn't know I've been holding in.
It felt so good to be around my parents again. The comfort they bring me is unmatched. And not to mention, the studio that my dad built for me in our house brings me more comfort than ever.
My dad built that studio for me when I was nine. I've cherished that sacred space of mine since. No one walks inside it or even inspects it. It's a space where I get to just be...me. No judgements.
I grab my palette and my large paint brushes. My eyes flutter shut as I try to think of something to paint. Lately, I've been off my game.
I guess I've just been more stressed than usual. I dawned on the realization that I have no idea what I want to pursue in life. I'll always have the title of being a mafia heir, but I'm so much more than that.
My mood has been down this entire month, and I've been trying not to get anyone to worry about me. There's bigger things to worry about than me. My headspace's been a fucking mess.
"Woo! You totally annihilated that guy, dude!" A loud voice booms from the living room, which I'm guessing is Arden's.
Unfortunately, Madden's spending the night here. Were my parents completely happy with that idea? Oh, god no.
I guess, my mom was fine with it. She doesn't really mind with things like these, in fact she encourages it. My dad, on the other hand.....He was fuming, it was entertaining to watch him share the profound hatred that I have for Madden.
But of course, he had to shut up and dissolve his anger for my mom.
I snap back to my thought process, trying to get rid of the distractions. Or a distraction.
Seriously, the one place I thought I could escape him. As if seeing him on school grounds wasn't torture enough, this motherfucker had to come to my house.
I grab a black paint can and slosh it over my canvas. I watch the paint drip, coating every corner of the once white canvas. It feels so satisfying to watch it get contaminated with the intoxicating color of black.
While the paint dries, I decide to sketch the idea I have for my painting. I start sketching out a party scene. Everyone's having fun, dancing and singing, throwing their hands carelessly in the air.
