We each have our own roles. The palettes provide color. The paintbrushes create the image. The hand guides the paintbrush. The water aids the process.
But we? We are the tissue paper in this watercolor world. The ones that that clean the mess created by the paintbrushes. The ones who gulp in the excess water. The backstage crew, the janitors, the underrated member.
A painting can survive without tissue paper. Tissue paper is just needed for one specific technique, anyway. But a painting cannot survive without the palettes, the paintbrushes, the water.
We are the tissue paper in this watercolor world, and with every droplet that we absorb, we become one step closer to breaking.
We are the tissue paper in this watercolor world. Not always important, not always needed. The second-class canvass, that at the end of the day, will be thrown away.
But no matter what is said about us, we enjoy each mistake we absorb. The clash of vibrant colors on my skin go unnoticed by the hand too focused on the masterpiece.
However, unlike the painting, my existence does not exist solely on the artist’s image. I am free from scrutiny, free to embrace every hue that comes my away, and free to never let go of any one of them.
We may be trash in your eyes, but art is art, and