Manipulated; No longer Kneaded: The Artist's Friend

Open the container, let me out. Thank you. It’s been cramped in there. I really need to have a good stretch.
Your hands look strong, powerful. I hope we can work well together. I feel the need to be bent out of shape and you seem to have what it takes. I’ll cover for you, I’ll take care of any of your mistakes, I’ll remove your regrets. Just hold me, squeeze me. Knead me.
I’m feeling so much more relaxed, more myself, since you first took me out. I feel like I’ve grown, my horizons have expanded, even though at times I feel I’m at the snapping point. You somehow manage to slap me back together. You’re good for me. I hope you feel I’m good for you.
You think I’m tacky? Yes, I heard that. That sort of hurt, you know. You could be a little bit more thoughtful, I may not have the best taste, but remember…you have used me, time and again, to cover up your own errors. I’m there for you when you need a change of perspective.
Well, if that’s the way you feel, sure, ball me up. Toss me away!

I’ll bounce back.

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