Love Through LimeLight by Farrah Abraham Read Free Book Online Page A

realistic for me
to throw myself into my romantic life.
    I need to do something that will strengthen me as a person
without relying on anyone else. As much as I love Johnni and know he will be
there for me if I need him, I have to be independent. That’s just who I am.
    “I have a rough idea. Even if I’m not sure, I can always
just start again, right?”
    Giulia nods. “Exactly. Don’t worry about making everything
perfect. It’s okay to mess up a little. If you want to, we can stay here all
night.”
    We aren’t meeting in her office as we usual do. Instead, I’m
sitting on a concrete floor in the middle of a nice but empty art studio. There
are smears of paint and discarded swatches of fabric all over the place. Giulia
has pushed me through the big, metal doors on the opposite side of the room and
told me to go to what called to me.
    I don’t know why I ended up at the little table across the
room. It is nondescript, almost plain compared to the bigger tables with their
brightly colored ornaments. It is obvious that I could have picked almost any
art project in this large room. There are paint and sewing equipment. There is
also what looks like a glass-blowing shelf a little further down, but the heavy
apron I would have to wear for that made the thought almost as exhausting as
the actual action would be.
    I sat down at this little table instead, finding a lump of
clay and a bucket of warm water waiting for me. Is it warm because Giulia knew
it was what I would pick? I don’t know and right now I don’t care.
    I take a handful of the clay and press it into my palm. It
squishes easily and I wet the tip of my fingers before I scoop up more and add
it to the collection. Giulia explains the logistics of the molding but I catch
on pretty quick and after a few minutes she wanders off in another direction.
    I hear her behind me, humming while she takes colored
pencils to a giant canvas. I smile at the sound because this is the first time
I’ve seen my therapist so relaxed. She’s usually dressed to the nines in pencil
skirts and professional blouses, but today she’s wearing jeans and a well-worn
but clean T-shirt. I know this is part of my therapy and that she wants me to
relax and find an outlet for my pent-up emotions, but it almost feels as if I’m
out with a girlfriend, just having a good time.
    As I work the clay in my hands, I warm it with my body heat,
giving it an even smoother appearance. The action is almost sexual in nature
and before long I find myself strangely aroused by the way my hands slide over
the smooth surface. As I work, I realize that this must be the heart of all
art. This is me, my special brand of energy and interest, poured into something
that people can see. Something that people can touch.
    I’m taking the most secret parts of me and making them
tangible in the world. Somehow, that truth makes me more excited and focused
than anything else.
    I think about the way I’m spending my time, unwinding in a
manner that never would have crossed my mind. In the past, when I wanted to
blow off steam I would have hit a club. A few hours of drinking and dancing
would relax me even more than a workout by itself. I might even pick up a guy
and let him give me a few orgasms while I settled my mind and body into a new
rhythm.
    But that isn’t me anymore. That isn’t what I want. I have
grown up a lot in the last couple of months. No, I’ve grown up in the years
since Cheer Battle . I’ve become a powerful woman. A woman to be feared
and respected.
    The clay warms again, strengthened by my mental resolve. I
make a pleased noise in the back of my throat and somehow I feel as if the clay
responds to that. I don’t know how it knows but it’s almost like telepathy and
I connect to what I’m creating in an almost spiritual sense.
    I lean back against the chair and root myself deeper in the
moment. My old fears and concerns melt away as I press my fingers to the clay
and work it to my