Eleven

Fortune cookies and horoscopes and internet quizzes asking “what color is your soul?” are all just excuses to find what we want to see in ourselves. They only exist because the human experience of living life without really seeing how others perceive you is difficult. We are the artist that molds and shapes the person we choose to be, but how can we be sure that this arm, this leg, looks the way I want it to? It’s a giant game of charades- we act out the clues in the hopes that someone, anyone out there will see who we are trying to be and accept that as our reality. We seek the predictions and read between the lines but we only read in the identity  we want to. Because an artist does not want to be told that their starry night is really nothing more than a blur of blue.

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