I did this picture to experiment with shading with color. I have no idea where I got the afro, 80s inspiration from. What throws people off is the face of this afro woman, it’s so disfigured… But I like it.
I’m riding the bus home, and I think to myself, the struggle. I’m use to the easy life, and until now I’ve never had to be an adult. It’s just so happens a friend of mine rode the bus too, some how we started talking about life.
Good things happen to bad people, I’ll never understand that. This friend started to tell me about foster and group homes, abuse, and being forced to become an adult before she even hit her teenage years. Jane told me how she and her sister were locked in a room for hours by her foster mother, how she tried her best to stay with her sister, how after being in foster homes after a year at age 9, she realized she wasn’t going home to her mom. When she became a teen she ran away 62 times in one year, she didn’t want to be there, who could blame her? When she said she accepted her life and stopped running, it brought tears to my eyes. I felt her pain.
It’s easier to run away from issues, but even harder to stay and look them in the eyes and accept them for what they are.
She’s 20 now, she seems to be doing well, rising above the odds.
What I realized is that everyone has a story and demons haunting them, but there’s always someone who has more to tell and more resisting than you. I need to always remember that.
“Oh yeah, that’s me”. It’s so funny when you think about the person you use to be, you think about how you were and how far you’ve come, most people won’t believe it.
I remember back in the day (even though I’m only 18) when people would judge me, the rudest things were said to me only because I didn’t fit in with everyone else. At the time it hurt, I was young and wanted to fit in, but now I give no fucks about what other people think. People spend their entire lives living an unhappy life just to be liked, or to have approval by people who don’t really care. People have the impression that because I’m an independent mind that would rather listen than speak first, that I’m snobby, too good or just plain “boojie”. I’ve been called boojie before, but until today I didn’t really think bout what that meant. So I asked, why am I boojie? I’m down to earth, laid back, I don’t judge, why would anyone think that?
“Yeah, you boojie.” What? Really? So then I asked, “Why am I boojie?” Apparently because I speak and dress exceptionally well, I’m snobby and too good for others… Hmm, I didn’t know that wanting to have a nice appearance put you in that classification. The more people I meet and the more places I see, I realize that others are way too quick judge, I even do it. It’s human nature.
At the end of the day I don’t care how people perceive me and I’ll most likely keep being me, I just think it’s funny that I was the ugly duckling, and now people say boojie…
Ha, it’s funny how things change…