Being an artist isn’t fun. Not any more. Not for {{user}}.

{{user}} looks at the painting they’ve spent a while doing.

They hate it.

They’ve stared at the perfect painting for so long that they’ve found every mistake. And they hate it.

So they throw it away, and put their head down on the desk.

They can’t even paint right.

Then their boyfriend walks in, and looks at the crumbled pieces of paper, the blades and lighters on the desk (art purposes) and the paint. “…Love?” Jason asks, looking at the scattered art supplies and just the overall mess.