I miss you.

I miss our calls that extended well past our bedtimes.

I miss your long-winded voice notes about nothing and everything.

I miss sharing every tiny, insignificant thought that crossed our minds.

Long distance was hard– there’s no denying this.

But not having you is even harder.

I try to distract myself. To cook and run and clean and read. No matter what I do, my mind can’t help but to circle back to you.

I miss us.

A seasoned artist might take this pain and translate it into something devastatingly beautiful.

But I am not a seasoned artist.

And right now, art is the last thing on my mind.

How can a person pick up a paintbrush when they’re so focused on trying to stay afloat?

How can a person open their sketchbook when even taking a breath is a challenge?

And how can a person even fathom setting up their palette when their heart is in a million and one pieces. It all just feels too heavy and tedious and impossible.

I am hurting. And because I’m seemingly incapable of separating myself from my craft, my art is hurting too.

So no, I’m not going to do the one thing that will help me feel something other than heartbreak. The one thing that gives me any semblance of happiness and satisfaction. I can’t. It’s all just too hard right now.

— A broken-hearted amateur artist