Not The Same Anymore

The day my mom washed away a piece of art. That piece of art I’ve been working on for two years. It began, well, two years ago. This art piece began as a humble black/ heavy navy canvas, as I worked on it more, it took shape of what I went through on a daily basis, almost like mirror reflecting my inner colors. Such things as weather, my materialistic desires, and my dietary consumption affected every stroke and shading being incorporated into my art. I would spend at least once a week putting time into this art. A funny thing is, certain things in my life would cause very specific turn out that day on my piece of art.  The more money I had, the shades would fade towards lighter blue and almost white. The more I didn’t talk or communicate to others more squares and rectangular were embedded into the fading blacks and blues. The more I didn’t listen to music and fasted my musical urges I had curves and circles added. Just when this piece was becoming more and more mature and becoming a masterpiece to me the unthinkable happens.

Mom meet art, art meet mom, stay friends just don’t touch each other. I should’ve known this rule would be broken, one thing led to another and things happened. I must have forgetting my mom’s tendencies because I’ve been away at college for so long. She probably picked it up, picked at it, touched it, and smelled it and realized how ‘dirty’ it was to her. So she decided to wash my art. It was almost like an epi-epidermis to my epidermis, was the bookbag for my books, my scrotum to my nuts. She wasted my one-of-a-kind denim. That’s right I said it denim. Some of you out there are thinking ‘ what’s this baby crying about?!’ and a very select few out there are up with one fist in the air, feeling my pain. For those very few, I pump my fist in the air too.

I called it the one-of-a-kind denim, not because it’s a limited edition x collab from a high end Japanese denim factory. I call it my one-of-a-kind because there is literally none like it out there, it was MINE. Now it’s ruined. This now gives me an excuse to go grab another pair. Thanks but no thanks mom.



One response to “Not The Same Anymore

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