I Left Art at a Thrift Store. You’re Welcome.

Today I did something weird. (Shocking, I know.)

I took a piece of my original art, signed it, blessed it with a spiral of mischief and meaning, and left it, intentionally and unapologetically, in the thrift store.

No fanfare. No name tag. Just a bright little message from a total stranger that says, “Hey. We’re all in this together.”

That’s it. That’s the whole thing. Well, except for the part where I stood in the aisle like a deeply unhinged art fairy trying to find just the right spot between framed cats playing poker and someone’s dusty vacation photo from 1987. You're welcome.

But why?

Because the world is heavy. Because not everyone can afford art. Because someone out there might need a reminder that people still create for the joy of it, and that kindness doesn’t always come with a barcode.

And maybe, just maybe, someone will pick it up and feel… something. A smile. A laugh. A question. A flicker of belonging they didn’t expect between the lamps and the off-brand waffle makers.

Maybe they’ll take it home and hang it up. Or maybe, they’ll leave it there, and the next person will find it. Either way, I’m good.

Because this isn’t about going viral or getting praise. This is about leaving proof, physical, paint-stained proof that creativity matters. That connection is real. That even in the most unlikely places, the universe (and sometimes a neurospicy woman with a paintbrush and a mission) can drop in to say:

You’re not alone. You matter. Also, don’t buy that rusty toaster. It doesn’t work.

So if you ever see something wild and colorful whispering to you from the bottom shelf, look closer. It might be from me. Or from something bigger. Or maybe we’re the same thing, disguised as weirdos with good intentions and questionable handwriting.

Either way, carry on, beautiful human. You’re doing better than you think.