I am not beautiful, rotting and falling apart slowly as if I was being punished. I can't breath, see, feel. The only relief I have is creation of the unknown, exotic. I can create the beauty I hunger for, display it like a muse inspiring other so that maybe they can also see past the rotting corpse of life.
This is really... My first art therapy picture. Back when they were weening me off my Lexapro, searching for the cause of my seizures, or the cause of their worsening. I felt depressed, but was under control because i knew it was from being weened from from the drug.
P.S. My friend is going to help me clean the white background up from points and discoloration on it. All I have is MS pain, so my cleanup tools are extremely limited. So I will be editing it with the cleaner form.