Negative feelings slip away as pencil hits paper. Everyone around me is nothing but a blur of colored beings and muffled noise. I no longer hear the conversations around me, simply the soft hums of their voices that blend with my music, and the scratching of my pencil as I soon slip into a daydream like paradise. I forget every negative comment, action or feeling that may have happened that day, the night, week or even that month.
Art was always important to me in some way or another. I don't recall how old I was when I started getting into art. It seems like art has always been a part of my life but, it's importance to me has changed over the years. I could tell you how I couldn't read well, I didn't start chapter books till the end of second grade and I couldn't spell and math was and still is my worst enemy. Art was something I just did in school because it was really the only thing I could do but, what importance is that?
Art is a hobby, art relaxes me, keeps me sane. It's something no one can control or tell me how to do. I have no rules or boundaries that I have not set for myself. My limitation is simply my imagination. It is a miniature symphony created by lines, pencils and eraser shavings as they cross paths to create something I love or sometimes, something I hate.
More often then I would like, I feel unsatisfied with what I have created. I continue to pick at everything that is wrong instead of focusing on what is right but, I do not give up, it is a simple bump in the rode to a hopefully long and creative journey.
I take on every expression that I draw, earning looks by passersby as my face twist and scowls, smiles or frowns. As my eyes soften with sadness, or harden with anger. As I flutter and move in a meek manner or scurry for my easer, as quick as a mouse darting back for its home.