“It looks like a drunk man peed paint on a canvass and then tried to paint over it.” Jessica declared.

I stared up at the painting from the bench. The painting was a huge mess of paint that sang a harmony of balance.

“How’s the high?” Jessica asked, “It’s…” I felt like I had so much energy yet no motivation to use any of it. “It’s good.”

“You’ve really never done weed before?”

I stared at the painting for a few seconds before replying, “There’s a first for everything, Jessica.”

“I guess that’s right. What do you think of the painting?”

“It’s beautiful… How can something so messy be so complete and harmonious?”

“I gave you a quarter brownie, are you okay?”

“It’s not the weed. It’s… It’s just so beautiful…”

I examined every single corner, stroke, and color of the painting. “Maybe… messiness is part of beauty… Nothing beautiful is perfect - everything beautiful is fucked up just a tiny bit…”

“so maybe the perfect thing is the most fucked up thing you can imagine…” Jessica finished.