There are a hundred more moments like this one built up in my head : the time when, reading aloud in front of my advanced composition class, I stumbled over the same phrase in my own essay several times before finally reading it right. The time when another art professor walked into the quiet and mostly empty art studio and criticized my painting, even though I wasn’t his student. The time that I cut my own finger while slicing bread with Erica for dinner – I nearly passed out and she had to bandage my finger for me.
I’m working to break down the walls I’ve built around myself, to bare my thin skin and share my art with others, no matter how painful the process, no matter how raw it makes me.