The atmosphere was awful. Almost everyone was bothered with something.
After Brittani, I never thought I would feel the same again for somebody else. I refused to admit, but she had left a void in me after the breakup. Romance put me off, somehow. I turned to my easel. Perhaps that was all I need.
That painting captured my soul, my sadness, my solitude. I had thrown all my emotions into it. It turned out to be another masterpiece.
My birthday was approaching, but I didn’t bother reminding them. Everyone was caught up with problems.
In the end only dad celebrated with me. But that alone was comforting enough. At least somebody remembered…
Happy birthday to me.