I said as I kept down my partially painted canvas on the floor. I was surrounded by pencil shillings, chocolates wrappers, smudges from the charcoal and colored water that I had accidentally knocked down a few hours ago.
Off course there were those crumpled pieces of unsatisfactory work lying lazy like a dog in the warm desert across me and off course there were those spilled color marks of frustration on either of my walls.
But in the end, I did what I always did.
‘The best of me in my painting.’ I breathed in pride.
I slowly took it in my hand like my prized possession and clipped it to the rope where I had clipped the rest of my paintings and sketches.
I looked down at my palms and saw rivers of happiness in red and blue and green and a mixture of it all painted naturally on them, running all over my hands and down my dress.
I never minded this mess for this mess was my very own, a part of me and my identity.
“You were born for it,
We knew long before.
An absolute fool,
No doubt you are,
For not doing the thing,
That your heart resides in.” .
I’ve heard lots of them say this to me but I guess I’m so adamant that I’ll never pay heed to them and their words.
This is what makes my love for my talent special. Not dedicating all of my time to it.
If I’d do that, how would I grow myself in other subjects, other fields of interest that this world beholds?
I am and always will be the curious cat, so don’t mistake me as a fool for I know what I do and want to do.
You see there’s a whole lot of reasons I have, none of them I want to share.
But you just know this one little thing, someday I’ll be something extra ordinary, not only in my passion, but also in my struggle and pain, not that I fully plan on being extra ordinary. I just want to be me in the end, like always.
#Me on taking science as a major in senior high school.