When I was younger, I thought that my night terrors were usual. I thought that my overactive imagination was a curse.
I thought I was abnormal and didn’t fit in anywhere. I didn’t know an artist lived with anxiety.
Once Upon A Time
I grew up with my mother and grandparents under the same roof. My mother was an artist, drawing and painting. My grandpa worked at a binding company for publishers. He would bring home many books that had small defaults in the paging, margins or didn’t make the mark. Believe me; we had priceless bookshelves!Continue reading “An Artist With Anxiety”