I miss painting.

Not that I'm good at it. In fact, I suck. I tried to paint a bird and it came out looking like a rat with wings.

But I miss the colors. The bright, the dark, the feeling as the brush moves over the canvas.

I miss finding random splotches of red, or brown, or blue smudged on the edges of my hand and tips of my fingers.

I miss the feeling that a song could create inside me, that would somehow be channeled out through my fingertips into hues that blend and swirl on the canvas.

I miss it.

I need art.

Art needs me.

We cannot survive without each other.