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I'm Going To Change Your Heart
She set up her easel at the shady part of the garden and started to open a tube of paint and sighed. She doesn't really want to paint, but then, if she didn't do anything and just stayed inside her apartment, she would feel sleepy and that's the last thing she would want to do.
However, running on caffeine for two straight days was easy. She had to put down the paintbrush she was holding because her hands were shaking. Yawning, she checked her phone. She didn't get to any club for just two nights and she got no message at all. It's like she no longer exists—everyone has already forgotten about her. She chuckled wryly. No matter where she moved, it's all the same. She's nothing. No one cares about her.
Before she knew what was happening, she started splattering paint on the canvas using her bare hands. The paint mixed on its own as her hands moved without thought. She was simply staring blankly on the canvas.
"That looks good."
She jumped on her seat,
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