My Canvas

You know how everyone thinks that your life is a big canvas?

A big white piece of paper?

And how you yourself are painting it as you go through life?

And when you die, that portrait will finally be complete?

Every little piece will come together to show you the big picture.

But my canvas isn't coming together.

My canvas is ripped, holes torn in it, paint dripping, lines erased, unwanted mistakes.

My life is like my canvas, you can't return it, you can't get a new one, you have to work with the one you got.

But how can I work with such a disaster?

I can't paint through the rips; I can't draw through the holes. I can't continue my picture with the mistakes in the way.

Looks like I'll just have to paint around them.