Pieces of Lies Read Online Free PDF Page B

and confused but mostly blindsided by my best friend.
    “Norah please, I’m sorry. That girl, she meant nothing to…”
    I cut him off. “I don’t care who you fuck Josh. It’s not like I’m your girlfriend,” and I retreated back into my apartment, slamming the door in his face.
    “Please forgive me Norah, please. You are everything to me. Everything. I needed to do that. It was for us, our future.” His voice was raspy through the thickness of the door.
    “Walk away Josh, I need some time,” I said in my calmest voice, which was still shaking.
    “Norah…” he pleaded again.
    “WALK AWAY!” And after a few seconds, there was silence.
    I was pacing my apartment furiously, trying to calm the adrenaline pumping through me. My body shook from the whole scene. I was angry, hurt and confused by Josh’s actions and I needed to vent everything that was about to erupt inside me and spew out from all the pores in my skin. The paint room immediately sprang to my mind.
    I had a second bedroom in the apartment I had turned into my paint room. I used this room to create pieces for my studio space downtown, the space being yet another perk in my transfer here. I was in my senior year finishing my graphic design degree which I intended to use to design book covers, which I really enjoyed. I had a huge love for books and reading, so applying my creativity towards that avenue seemed like a good career path to take. I even had a few publishing houses already sniffing around with job offers after seeing some of my freelance work.
    There was however, another part of who I was, a dark side that I constantly kept at bay, and I controlled it by creating intense and emotionally driven pieces of art on flat canvases. This was a side of me that thrived on being a moody artist type, who reveled in passionate darkness and chaos. It was my own personal form of therapy. 
    When I moved here, I was given my very own studio space to display my work. It was a loving thought with the intention of helping me keep my focus and feel less out of control when my emotions threatened to take me down a dark path. I knew my triggers, so I was always prepared.
    When I reached the paint room, I set up a flat canvas on the floor and opened a series of green, blue and yellow non-toxic oil paints. The room was already lined wall to wall with layers of mess sheets and in the corner of the room, my paint robe hung on a tiny wall hook next to a small side table. A docking station that held my iPod, also sat on the table which had two drawers nestled underneath next to a large bottle of water. There was also an extra hand towel on the table in case I needed to clean up additional splatter and mess.
    I hit play on my iPod and immediately, guitar riffs, drum solos and bass guitar from various rock music artists began filling the room. The raw rock music ignited my creativity like fuel and I began to strip off all my clothes, tossing them into the corner near the table. Carefully, I positioned the colored paints on my naked body. Down my bare chest, on my stomach, the low of my back, my shoulders and heels. I stretched my entire body in one long drawn out movement and then listened as the music filled my soul, enveloping the emptiness in my heart that I ignored daily with forced confidence and enthusiasm. They were shields I used as a coping mechanisms for the inner hate I had towards the world and my past.
    I lay down, and then with the music and my own angst bubbling inside me, I began to bend, twist and maneuver myself along the flat canvas. My body was now the brush, gliding and working its way as emotion and effect was created in a twisted stream of shapes and colors. This was me, raw and naked, creating my vision of the world. I worked through my entire playlist, and by the end, the room seemed to spin as I lay breathless and naked, covered in paint on the mess sheets on the floor, next to my completed work of art. The silence stretched for many minutes and