I don't consider myself the painting type. I can paint a room, but when it comes to doing art, I'm not that type of creative. My mom is, and my brother and sister. I don't know why I never picked it up. Recently though, I have had the desire to paint. I love colors, the thickness and texture of oil or acrylic paint. It reminds me of my childhood and painting with my fingers. Back then we were always so proud of our messy masterpieces, and my mother agreed with us. I wish I picked up painting sooner. If I start painting now, it would still be messy. I like order and structure. I like when the colors match properly and don't blend together to make brown. I think I'm afraid to do it now. It's the same with writing. It's messy and it brings emotions out. But pouring out your emotions on paper with sincerity brings out the best poems, in my opinion. Maybe it's the same with painting. I don't have to please anyone with my creations. Sometimes I just need to let it out.