DEPRESSED FIRST YEAR

Black pen on paper.

This girl had terrible skin, her face was a mess of acne and acne scars. You could see her sadness and self-loathing in every movement of her body. I felt for her so keenly. I drew her with her back to me, without her knowledge. I felt a kinship to her, pariah, leper and outcast both of us. At the time, sobriety new to me and scaring the living shit out of me, I was too shy to even talk to her, the poor lonely wee thing.
Her work was of course exquisite and tempered with the sadness she woke with every day. She was always on her own. There were worlds within her.