i laugh. she laughs.

i laugh. she laughs. i dip my brush into the paint, bringing it over the blank, white canvas. it makes a line of purple, my favorite color. she grabs her own brush and dips it into the red, bringing along the other side to meet with my purple line in the middle. i laugh. she laughs. i smile. she smiles. we wash our brushes and start again. by the time we're done, it's just one crazy mess of colors. but we don't care. it's not there for someone to admire, to criticize. it's there because we made it, together, and we had fun; because we wanted it to be there. it wasn't put there for anyone else to judge. it was put there so that we could make it. it feels good, knowing that we don't have to make it for anyone else. that nobody's going to judge us. that we can just be ourselves: crazy, funny, and sometimes rather weird. but it doesn't matter, because who's there to judge? i laugh. she laughs. i smile. she smiles. we flip the page, dip in our paintbrushes, and start all over again. we don't have a plan. we don't have an outline. we don't even have an idea about what it's going to look like. but it doesn't matter. who cares? there's no one here who does. it's just me and my best friend. and the two of us will keep on painting, forever, just the two of us, unjudged, forever in freedom in ourselves.