Most of his paintings were of me and my tattoos, but the center painting, the one that I begged Dad to spend over a million pounds from my trust fund on just so I could have it for myself forever, is my favorite. I still have it as my lock screen. It’s the one painting he couldn’t finish all those years ago. The one where I’m standing and he’s leaning against my shoulder. He finally managed to draw his own face, and this time, he’s fucking smiling. Never giving that painting up. Will probably have to put a request in my will to bury it with me so that when I meet Satan, I can tell him all
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