Orphan Third StrikeWhen three of these pages were worked on (the last three), I was thinking about the difficulties with Betty and how she said not to call her mom.

This situation threw me for a loop because for 3 years I’ve called her mom. To make matters worse she said, when I think of families I think of a white mother and father with white children or a black mother and father with black children. I said, what about adoption. No answer. Then came insult to injury. She said, I don’t have a daughter and have always wanted one, but I think of you more as a sister…..ok…. That’s the line a girl gives a guy when she’s dragged his crush out as long as she could and then told him, I think of you more as my brother than a boyfriend. Betty added one last thing, she said: I can’t change it and neither can you. She says she can’t change her view of the situation and neither can I.


On this subject, it’s best she not say anything else.

I don’t know what changed. I don’t know if I did something to make her feel embarrassed by me. Of course I think of my weight and think that she may be embarrassed by that, too. Then I think to myself, don’t hold on to this. I’m not going to shove it down and pretend it didn’t happen. But I’m also choosing not to focus on this too long.


I feel hurt, betrayed, flabbergasted, sucker punched, abandoned, lead on, angry. I also feel I can handle it. I feel my art will reflect my feelings as I move through this shattered portion of life. The flow of art, the composition and subject matter are things I can’t change.

My voice is strong and true when written in color on canvas. Color is my native tongue.

Tea and Anger


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