All the brush strokes are worlds

My demons are big. They are faceless and yet look like me every time I look in my dirty mirror. They have made me a hell of a fighter. I remember being a kid and not knowing how I felt about sadness and anger. I remember they just came on one day. It had nothing to do with the people who were around me over even the place I was in. I was the prisoner on Avalon and no one would ever be able to see.  It was a labyrinth and I learned to paint sunshine and flowers on the walls and make it my home.  I learned to be happy and calm without depending on others. Learning how to be creative without the sadness was the hardest part. The pain was my drive and when it lessened I felt like a fraud for a bit. I don’t know how I changed out of those robes. Nakedness is a good word. It was the definition of how I felt until I grew to love my nakedness. So raw and so tender like a 20-year sunburn.  I stopped being Jae Jae and let myself be Jawara. I grew my hair out again and let myself be who I felt like on the inside, a new outside. The journey of a painter guys is not an easy road. it never really gets to be an easy road. But it is so deep and empowering once you hit the ground and make your mark.

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