How does one find inspiration to continue? After you had gone, I came to the conclusion that I couldn't do anything anymore or make anything sensible and worthy enough to be called 'Art' if showing you wouln't be possible and if being able to tell you wouldn't be something I could do anymore. I have done as much as even turning away from the things that reminded me, from the music we used to listen to, even to the films we'd tell the world we'd watch together. I've been fighting to do otherwise because I know this is not the kind of person you've always expected me to be. You saw great things in me that nobody else has. In my pain and bitterness, you understood me. In my trials and tribulations, you carried me. In my blindness, you saw and healed me. And when I was lost, you found me.
But you died within, and it killed me too. I still bleed deep inside but it doesn't hurt as much anymore. Time heals but the scar remains. But I want you to know that wherever you are, you are still the life on my brush and the fire in my pen, so everytime I put them up to paint, it is simply like painting a picture of a dear friend I lost. When you left, you forgot to tell me how to live without you. I never thought you'd take from me that huge of a piece and take it with you, but you did and you changed me forever.
I am here. I am going to make you proud. I am with people who are far more talented and creative than I ever will be, which gives me room for learning and an avenue for improvement. You always told me I did great, and that was more than enough to keep me going, but now I do not have you anymore to keep telling me. Just so you know, the tears I cry everynight bear my message and I hope that somewhere, somehow, you are still listening to it.
Beautifully Imperfect