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*The Following piece actually has a point and expresses moral views . . . sorta. Whatever, enjoy.

I never know what to title them. I finish piece after piece and I’m told to title them, but I never know what to do. How can I sum up something with so much in only one title? I really don’t see how that’s possible, so they always end up untitled. Sometimes not, though. Sometimes they have titles. They’re never very good. I just pick an object in the picture and name it, like apple. I named one piece Apple, another Clematis, and a third Sunflowers. They say nothing about the piece. They just point out the obvious.
I was once sitting at the table for hours after I finished trying to think of what to call the piece. It was a painting that I actually really liked. That’s rare. Other people usually like my pieces better than I do, but I did like this one. There was a good story in it, though I doubted then – and still doubt now – that anyone would ever pick up on the story. Unless they were familiar with faerie lore, which they still might not have understood, but it had a story whether or not anyone got it. The story was about a girl, I don’t know her name, but I know about her life. It wasn’t the greatest. She was always alone and her parents were crappy and didn’t care about her because they were too busy getting high or drunk. She didn’t have very many friends either, so she was basically alone all the time. It was really quite sad. Well, eventually the girl found out that faeries were actually real and, in fact, very annoying little monsters most times, but seemingly very nice other times (she really shouldn’t have fallen for that).
Days went by when the faeries were her only friend, then there were weeks when they were all she talked to, then there was a year. A year during high school when they were all she’d talk to, the only ones who would listen, really. She hated school. No one liked her, which she didn’t blame them for, no one talked to her, and everyone teased her. She wasn’t acknowledged as the creative, beauty she was, mostly because she always hid it and everyone was too wrapped up in the fights, drugs, gangs, and Hollywood to notice the pretty things anymore. Pretty doesn’t really translate to beauty anymore, though. It’s all about money and makeup and the shortest skirts. But anyway, that’s what she was dealing with because she didn’t want to be like her parents, so she avoided the rest of the people in her rundown school that did that same crap. It made sense.
Her faerie friends were really all she had and that was good enough for her, really. One day, while they were playing around and talking about how the world was just so messed up when they brought up the possibility of making this girl a faerie, so she could fly away from everything she hated. This is where the painting comes in. What I painted was the girl being carried to the lifted veil on Halloween, the day when the veil between the two worlds lifted to let the spirits intermingle with our world. The part that she didn’t know was that she wasn’t going to be made and immortal faerie like her friends promised, but rather she was just a sacrifice they used so that they, and the other faeries on the other side of the veil, could walk freely on the earth forever. She was a tithe. The picture depicts the absence of this knowledge on her face. I don’t think she’d regret it even if she knew, though. The world was too much of a pain for her.
This picture is probably the only one that I think I titled well, The Lifted Naïve. I liked it, too, but like I said, I doubt anyone would find that story in it. Come to think of it, they probably wouldn’t understand the title. I should just leave it another untitled and let the art speak for itself; “Dear viewer, insert title her