Little Square Box Called Sanity

1. Alicia met him in an art school, as she breathed art and couldn't hold a pen withought doodling all over whatever surface was in front of her, including arms and legs. She was always so oblivious of her surroundings, not even noticing when eyes should be burning lacerations in her back or neck, especially while she was painting. Her conplete and full concentration locked into her artwork, lost in the world of watercolours, inks and acrylics. The things she painted, such elegance with a  gothic twist. It had its own twirl to it. There's no other way to explain it. It had a twirl. This and another thing had set herself apart from other students. she had no fancy in modern art so her work stood out, but not to the best to the teachers. The teacher was forever nagging Alice to get a grip and concentrate on real art. Abstract or otherwise and to stop being difficult with her meaningless pieces of shit as she called them. Little did Alice know that the teacher herself one painted in the same frame of mind that Alice did; Dark, beautiful and laced with meanings. thoughts and experiences weaves into the gothic twirls Alice created with her imagination. Emotions ripped out and sewn onto the piece delicately, showing the raw thought and emotion that went into her pieces. They tore her apart and left her naked for people to shove, kick and humiliate her, and many jumped at the chance. Only few saw her work for what it really was, Art. Only a few offered their hand to help Alice up. Fewer covered her with their own clothes and took her home. Fewer still appreciated her artwork that were ripping open her heart and brain messily, spewing out her every thought and emotion in a sticky, red mess onto the wooden floor.  Staining the planks of ebony lain on the concrete ground. But those that saw it for what it is not only saw it but felt it. It tugged at their heart, dropping a weight in it so it sunk to the bottom of their stomach. They felt what Alice had. This is how she met him. How Alicia met the man that brought her life to nirvana, helped her feel pure ecstasy and filled her up with helium until she floated up to the ceiling. But also the one that crushed the nirvana, bought cascades of confusion crashing down on her perfect world, tied her down to melancholy and misery and popped the balloon, the feelings she thought escaped her as she crashed down, rushing past even average air, until she reached the bottom, in a crumpled mess on the dirty ground. he is the one that built her up only to crash her down.