Sat at her canvas, she painted vigorously. The smell of acrylic paint lingered in the air while she painted over her colourful base, illuminated by a single yellow light, emitting the warmth of the sun. The sun that has long sat in slumber, while the moon proudly sat in the dark velvet sky through her window. She sat back and stared at her artwork; the only thing in the silence was her own breath. But she was too fixated on the image before her to even notice. Just a few brush swipes away to make her happy. Swipes that resembled her mother.


    She put the photo down and looked at the photographs at her desk, each gave her a different taste of misery. She grabbed an image of her flat, one she could barely pay for. So, she painted over it. Hills, trees, a river and a cottage in the middle, shaped just like her flat. It looked perfect, everything had to be perfect. She grabbed more photographs, each she painted with fast, hungry swipes. The floor started to get covered by the photographs, and while the sun has rouse with its sleepy pink rays, she painted over her own life. The warm arms of the sun embraced her, waking her from her coma. She turned and looked into the dirty streets, filled with people which were small as ants. Cars driving in different directions creating a buzz of noise, like a busy hive. The traffic deafened the sounds of the birds’ morning song. Looking back at the paintings, she felt out of place.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    She painted. Painted as fast as she could. The walls were covered in acrylic. The ceiling was covered in acrylic. The floor was covered in acrylic. Anything that bothered her was painted over with acrylic, her phone, her clock, her door. The air was acrylic. The room looked perfect. It was where she belonged, it was what she deserved. A house in the countryside, with her own farm and her mother sitting on the armchair outside, happy. But she still stuck out. She still was in reality. So, she painted herself. Her perfect features. She drowned in her acrylic dreams. It was perfect.