ASHLEY
For the last two hours, I have shred up and damaged every piece of expensive fabric within my reach, and I still haven't managed to create anything breath taking. My mannequin is pockmarked with needle holes. My office is an eye sore. Frustrated, I plow through the fabric skimming my ankles and retreat to my desk.
I have never felt so talentless. My brain used to be cluttered with design ideas. I used to see fashion hits and misses whenever I looked at a person's outfit. Even the sight of color used to inspire a whole new look in my head but today, I've got nothing! It's a ghost town up in my head. I can't even differentiate between color shades. What the hell is wrong with me? I wonder silently, cradling my head in my hands.
It's their life. It shouldn't matter as much. She's my past and he is my blood. Why does it sting so much that my brother didn't tell me about his relationship with my ex-wife?
