did some ARTing last night. my mom is a teacher so coming home for a visit means endless craft supplies at my disposal. I pulled out anything that caught my interest (paints, oil pastels, glitter pens, glitter) and created. no pressure, no expectations. have you ever channeled your heart into art so well that the art actually started to hurt you? that happened with one piece from last night: it’s simple, but also raw and violent. it is a physical manifestation of my hurt so accurate that looking at it feels like when you jab your fingers into a fresh bruise to make sure it still hurts. and it does. but—isn’t that the point? to draw out pain from the inside and trap it somewhere else?