She stared blankly at the page before her. A whisp of of emotion, a sliver of a memory, a slip of an idea, and then...gone. Gone forever, lost in the bottomless abyss of her mind, buried beneath a veritable mountain of teenage angst bullshit, friends, crushes, teacher, exams, homework, family, illness, death. If you could paint it, it would turn out a swirling, churning, sickening mess of colours, textures, always seemingly moving but always lingering, never leaving. The kind of painting where just looking at it would frazzle your brain and tie your stomach in knots. The kind of painting that once you see, you can't unsee.
YOU ARE READING
Bittersweet Symphonies
RandomStaring into the depths of the internet, she smiles. Another story? Ha, she thinks. She gives them this:
