In time

There was something underneath this piece before it became what it is now.

Two older paintings lived here—bright, playful, untouched by overthinking.

They held a version of me that created freely, without needing meaning.

My inner child.

I didn’t remove her.
I painted over her.

Layer by layer, I followed what felt natural in the moment.
At first, the tones were deeper—more grounded, more intentional.
I thought this piece would carry weight.

But the more I trusted my hand,
the more it softened.

It became lighter.
Calmer.
More open than I expected.

And that’s when I realized—
this is how my life has unfolded too.

Nothing that once felt heavy has stayed that way.
Not when I’ve allowed myself to move through it honestly.

Everything… eventually becomes light.

This piece holds time.
It holds every version of me that existed before this moment—
the ones who didn’t understand yet,
the ones who were learning,
the ones who were loving the wrong things,
the ones who were simply doing their best.

None of it was wasted.

It all led me here—
to a place where I can recognize calm,
where love feels steady instead of confusing,
where I no longer question if something is right…
but allow myself to experience how good it can be.

This didn’t happen quickly.

It took years of becoming.
Of unlearning.
Of trusting that what didn’t make sense at the time
would one day feel like it belonged.

And it does.

This piece is a reminder—
that life isn’t about getting it right the first time.
It’s about allowing each layer to exist,
until one day, you look at it all
and realize it created something whole.