I painted myself stranded in the middle of a storm I can’t explain. My face dissolves because some days I forget who I am, and the world blurs into a single frantic noise. Flowers grow through me, stubborn and trembling, proof that even in ruin, something still insists on living. Here I stand on my own cracked spotlight, not sure whether I arrived or crashed into it— breathing like it’s the last day on earth, and painting so I don’t disappear.