My name is Caroline, but my buddies call me Care-bear, Kiri-chan, even A.B.S. at some point in time (don't ask what the acronym stands for ). My low self-esteem keeps me somewhat modest so I won't ramble too much about myself: instead, I'll show you in the best way I know how: in pictures.
Art is my escape and safehaven. For as long as I can remember, I have wasted away the days scribbling nonsense, doodles and the like on free scraps of paper, and it has landed me in a group of quirky, amazing, and totally original friends, with whom I now share lifelong ties that truly do bind. I love them very much and feel it appropriate to mention them in this tidbit about my life, for they are very much a part of it.
In my 16 years, mostly all of the memorable moments have happened on or near water. Along with art, I find that I can literally drown my sorrows in any pool, lake, or ocean that cares to calm its waters enough for a refreshing dip. As a young girl I participated in swim team, where I made many friends and developed a still-growing sense for the world around me. The world of water has introduced me to an entirely different dimension, where words are meaningless and movement defines being. It too is a safehaven during a bad day that I can always rely on for a quick pick-up.
My dog, Yuki, is my furry child. I love her so much, for not only is she bundle of joy that she appears to be, but she has also taught me responsibility and commitment. Whenever I see a dog, cat, rat, rabbit, or whatever, my heart melts and I usually forget to ask its human for permission to pet it before I rush up and do so. There is a special place in my heart reserved for all creatures. I cry harder for them upon their deaths than I do people; I feel stronger, more spiritual ties with them. When I draw an animal, people say that they can see emotion woven in between the brushstrokes, whereas my human portraits usually reflect only auras of frustration, sadness, or simply staring off into nothing.
The fact that animals communicate almost entirely through feelings, rather than words and sounds that we as humans can directly understand, has further supported my theory that spoken word is only the lowest of many tiers that serve as a means of communication between conscious beings. I may seem like an introvert to most, because the facade that most humans don upon themselves upon meeting and greeting others remains foreign and unmastered to me, and altogether quite unimportant. For me, doing rather than saying is what really defines a person, for anyone can say that they'll do something, but relatively few will demonstrate their ability to do it.