So...
I am an artist. I am the person who does a lot of work and effort to create, with the purpose to express, to exteriorize and to understand the world, to understand myself.
I torn my soul to allow others to see the world trough my eyes. My role is to beautify, to influence and to give to life other tase.
I am judged when my hands are creating a expresion of reality that it's different, which they do not like, because people don't understand that this is a expresion of who I am.
I make thousands of sacrifices, I'm discouraged, I even hate myself sometimes, I have blockages, but still can not resist the urge to create. I need to get out my feelings somehow so, when I'm lost in thoughts, I paint a path of escape and when I don't want to talk I write my words to scream. They laugh at my dirty hands and clothes, full of paint, but they don't know that it's my own therapy, they don't know that everything looks better behind the camera lenses.
I am an artist and nothing else I would rather be...
