I want to break every piece of me so that maybe one day I could stick everything again together and make something better. Because right now I'm a white canvas that's been passed by people thinking they know what it means. When in fact they don't. They think there is some hidden meaning to the white strokes when in fact it actually means nothing. Nothing at all.
Because that's all I want them to know, is that I have nothing to offer. I have no color to attract. I have no story to tell.
Come and fix me. Come and brush hues into my life. Paint emotion and feelings into my heart. Be the artist of my life.
IM NO SOLID OBJECT. I HAVE NO SHAPE, NO BEGINNING, but definitely I have an end.
I'm a blank book just waiting for someone to write and be my author.
I did find someone who I thought was my author, but it turned out, she was just a caring and understanding reader.
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