ThisChicisWack

When your heart is broken, dead, you silently take an oath. You swear upon yourself never again to allow the pain and despair that you foolishly let set in. You poke at the shattered pieces of your heart, cradling it, reprimending yourself for letting it break in the first place, when it was so well mended and shaped. You scream and cry and curse yourself for your foolishness, and you swear never ever again to let it happen. But then, slowly, the pieces string back together, kindled from another who sees good in you, or something. And slowly, it all seems less and less important, and you're fine again. You begin to venture out, to love again

Art isn't merely something we do to ammuse ourselves. Sure, it can be fun or mind consuming, but that isn't the point of it. No, art is a way to express ones self, to free your mind and soul without need to stress. And I don't just mean drawing, art, oh no. That isn't what art is. Art is anything you can inflict yourself and your emotions on. Painint, drawing, writing, composing, singing, playing, clothes. Everything. That's what art is. You.