I saw this painting and I was inspired to write about the many things we forget underneath just to exist superficially.
How do we tie our identity to the things that could never be us? Status, wealth, achievement, beauty, age… How do we chase the impossible tirelessly?
Is it true that we’d find happiness when we finally achieve all that we set our mind to touch?
Is it true that when we find our person they’d love us for who we are and not what we have? what does that even mean?
It is easy to get carried away by all the finesse we forget the crude reality that exists underneath
Beautiful skeleton
Dust to dust
Ashes to ashes
Is who you are you hips and boobs?
The shape of your lips?
Your blemish free skin?
The color of your origin?
Is it your car, house, and money in the bank?
Skeleton you?
How laughable…
Ah ahh
The bitter echoes of the mirror we fail to look into
The present is a gift.
It is all you’ve got
Charred memories
Colorful moments
The epiphany of a lifetime
A joke.
Connoisseur of Memories 