The Way Things Go

Prologue

You never expect your life to turn out the way it does. As you grow up you have all these ideas about how you want it to go, what you want to accomplish, and that couldn't have been more true for me. At the age of nine I knew that I wanted to do something extraordinary with my life for how ever long I was to be on this earth. Yes, the age of nine? That does seem a little young to know for sure what you want to do, but I have never been more sure about anything in my entire life. I want to be an artist. Not a singer, dancer, or writer, but a painter. The kind that is remembered for lifetimes to come. Not because I'll be famous for my work, but because I left my heart out for everyone to see. For everyone that has gone through everything that I have gone through as well. I don't care about the money or fame. I just want to have my work seen, but stay hidden from all of it, so that my art can open everyone's mind to the possibilities of hope, love, trust, and the sense of being seen. That's all I want. 

Living in Los Angeles, I have all the inspiration the world, or I would have thought. I'm seventeen now and I have never been able to paint anything that has made a difference to anyone. Right now, sitting here with my canvas staring up over the city of angels, I have no idea of what to paint that would speak to people on the level that I want to achieve. Observing the colors and demons that I have given to my painting of the Hollywood sign, I realize that I am not getting anywhere with my work today, so I decide to head home. 

As I pack up my supplies, I think I hear someone in the trees behind me. Turning my head to look over my shoulder, all I see is the same birds that I have seen up here every sunday for the last three months. Grabbing my canvas carefully because of the wet, still fresh, paint, I head back to where I parked my car a little ways down the path. 

Approaching my car I notice something underneath my windshield wiper. Walking closer I notice it is a piece of paper. Great, I think to myself, a ticket. Just what I needed on an all ready shitty day. Picking up the piece of paper however, I notice I was wrong. It's not a ticket, but a letter.

"I see you, Jo," I say as I read the note out loud, "Your work means something to me." 

Stunned by what I have just read, I quickly look all around me, fast. Searching everywhere trying to see if I can find the person that left this note on my car. The ink on paper is still wet enough to smear, so I know that they can't be far away. 

Sighing in defeat, I turn back and get in my car and contemplate the drive home to make it back in time to join my aunt for dinner before I have to finish my school work for monday. So, without wasting anymore time, I start the car and take off to the place that I now call home, even though it doesn't feel like home. At least not me anyways.