Priceless

2nd Letter

Hey there.

I snort at the email I just received. What a loser.

I turn my phone off and lay back in bed. A yawn starts and I snuggle under my sheets. There is nothing better than to hide away in something warm. Especially when you live under such a cold roof. Literally. Or is it figuratively? Whatever.

Life seems like a mix of these two words. Literally, I can die or I can figuratively die. I could love in a literal way or in a figurative form. I don't know anymore the tight line between these two words.

I've never really understood the concept of love despite how little I was taught at home. I tried, but I ended up getting hurt either way. I then realized that love isn't a literal thing but more of a figurative thing. Something you can forget and blur on lined paper with a pen.

If only life could be like the Golden Ages. The Golden Years to when everyone was clean and love was possible through music or even when looking up at the clouds. Looking at the water. Looking at a painting. That's where I found a glimpse of it. Through paintings. Through art. The moment a paintbrush strokes against a white canvas, it's possible to reach out to all those blending colors. This is the only literal thing I hold onto.

Art major. My parents laughed at me when I said I was going to study art. My father said, "If you're going to waste all that money you were given for free on that, might as well pass it on to me." My ears burnt with anger and I decided to cry in my room instead.

Another literal thing. Money.

Now that is a thing I do see real and it's dangerous. It has blurred out love in my family and it's affected my whole life. Everything they see is with the sign of a dollar. Every movement I make is either to make fun of me or to use it for more money. And for what? To waste it on worthless things like poker or the casino. Looking for a single fortunate win among so many other unfortunate picks. For my parents, I'm one of them...

I try not to let their rudeness get the best of me. It has before. It always does at the end of the day. But going back to bed with warm sheets always puts a smile on my face. It's the only thing they haven't taken from me.

Oh. And this. I take out a piece of artwork I cut off from the brochure I got when I tried to sneak into the art museum without paying. I almost have my other plan down. I will get in there no matter what. Even if it means going to jail for one night, I have to see that beautiful place. I have to find my happiness at some point.

My thumb gently runs over the small painting from the brochure. God. It's beautiful. A powerful and brave army of soldiers with long hats and red coats. The front leader has a beautiful white horse filled with might and determination. A smile starts on my lips. It's rare when I smile but I leave it for art.

I put this paper against my chest and close my eyes. I let my mind drift into sleep; imagining myself as part of this army. If I can't find love, if it really doesn't exist...at least I want to find strength like the men in that painting.

I wake up with a startle. My body trembles and my heart paces at the loud yelling going on in the house. I quickly get up and run into the shower. They're fighting again. I wonder what bet they lost this time...

I tiptoe out of my room once I'm all done and try to escape their angry stares, but my muscles tense up at the sound of my mother's voice. "Dierdre!"

Damn it.

I slowly turn around and put my hands behind my back. "Yes?"

"Where are you going so early?"

"To school?"