I painted a portrait of you from a photo in a dark room. You were sitting in front of a window, light obstructed by cheap venetian blinds. You had a cigarette in the hand that held your forehead and a subtle pain in your eye that I recognized as grief but maybe it was just a migraine. Both can make you wonder if any of this is worth it. It's a beautiful photo. The painting turned out okay. I have used a few photos of yours to create art that would never be seen because of the shitty shame I felt ...feel? I'm getting over it for sure because fuck it! I'm leaving this state of being that asks me to fit neatly in and seeking out a better understanding of myself and what I want from the short fleeting moments we have in this world. I believe that is what you want as well. Lets share our moments without shame. And be friendly weird people who just fucked it up a bit. ...I'd still like to kiss you.