Post by EDEN SAVANNAH UNDERWOOD on Apr 15, 2013 21:24:23 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 440px; height: 400px; background-image: url(http://i51.tinypic.com/ngx4hu.jpg); -moz-border-radius: 250px; border-radius: 220px 220px 0px 0px; border: 0px solid #414141;] eden savannah underwood, twenty-five | 1989 | female | accident | chloe norgaard I’m not ready to cross over yet. I’m having too much fun. Death has been not a burden, but a liberation of sorts. Did I use that word in the correct way? Oh well. I suppose I should start from the beginning. I was born in Columbus, Ohio to two aspiring artists. Unfortunately, my parent’s art never made it out of our basement - but they still did very good work. They were the reason I started to paint. I started painting before I could even speak. If my parents were busy, they’d give me an empty canvas and finger paints, and I’d go to town. Some of my more popular works were the one’s I did before the age of 10. I had a talent for the arts, and my parents saw that. They never let me see that they were jealous when I opened up my first art gallery. I was 11, and we had traveled to New York to visit relatives, and they loved my work so much they helped pay for an art gallery. I sold all of my paintings, 3 of them exceeded $100,000. I was in awe, because I never imagined I would amount to something. I thought I’d always be stuck in the basement like my parent’s were. My parents were proud of me, albeit slightly jealous, because their works were not as popular as mine. I felt bad, I truly did, but they never showed their jealousy while I was still young. I didn’t truly understand what was going on and how famous I really was until I was 16, and my second art gallery opened. I never really had a normal childhood. I was like a childhood star, I was ‘famous.’ I didn’t think I was that big of a deal, but the paparazzi did, because I was one of the youngest children to ever open such a successful art gallery. I just wanted to finger paint in my living room again and have my parents hang it on the fridge. I wanted to go back to school with all my friends. Well, the school part I could leave out. I never really liked school. It was so...brainwashing. Just sitting in a desk all day, staring at the chalkboard, eating and talking only when told. I got in trouble more times in elementary school than any of the other kids, mainly because I refused to be brainwashed by my teacher. I wanted to color outside of the lines, but of course that was not allowed. Brainwashing! School was one of the reasons I really got into art. The colors were my emotions! My way of showing society that it couldn’t control me! And I think that’s why everyone really liked my paintings, because it was different than the normal art of the time. I was born in the bulk of the hippie movement, so I guess my art wasn’t too different, but it was different than the boring stuff that came before the sixties. I really got popular during my early twenties. That was when my art started to get angry because I felt like I was being oppressed. My advisor wanted me to change my art to become more popular, but all I wanted was to share my art with the world. That was when I started with the drugs. Psychedelic drugs were my vice, like mushrooms, LSD, ecstasy. I did weed more than that though, because I just wanted to escape the fucked up world that I lived in. I overdosed when I was 25. It was an accident, but it didn’t look that way, so soon my ‘suicide’ flooded the media. The prices of my paintings skyrocketed, and my parents were rich. They donated most of the money to charities. arieee | sixteen | almost seven years | pennsylvania, U.S. |
