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I'm just so confused.
Lately, I can't draw anything.
All my drawings that I attempted without encouragement from any particular source were not 'beautiful', nor 'ugly', simply 'without feeling'.
I can't touch the pictures anymore... what happened?
I've been wondering what happened to my artist instinct. I look at the pictures I once called 'beautiful', and skip right on to the next one. I can't feel the feeling that pours into you from the pictures.
Also, I've come in contact with colors. It's a disagreeable feeling for me. In my world, I've drawn everything. Every thing is dark, light, or in between. There is no added element of 'color'. I can't grasp the feeling very well. Value drawings are okay, as long as one value is black and the other is a cool color, such as blue or purple. Anything too bright, I dislike handling.
Something is crawling around uncomfortably in my head.
I simply imagined the prospect of forgetting how to draw.
Tears appeared.
I'm scared to forget.
If I do, what is there left for me?
Fear grips my heart.
After all, I drown my world in black, white, and grey.
Pencil sketches were drawn with a shaky hand. I no longer know what I draw. I can't even hold an image in my mind for that long anymore. I don't want to forget. Please don't let me forget.
I can't contain my feelings. I have such an immature skill. Like a flower bud. Easily crushed while still in it's developing stage. Confined to forever exist in one area, unless death comes first. Will I be the rose, who blossoms into a beautiful, magnificent flower that dies away quickly, or the weeds on the ground who are uglier and paler in comparison, more in number, but live forever, trapped in its undead, undesirable state?
I think I understand why words like 'beautiful' and 'ugly' were created.
Each reflects how we compare to everything else in this world.
If I am 'ugly', those under me are even uglier.
If I am 'beautiful', those above me are even more beautiful.
However, if I am 'without feeling', the concience of others does not matter anymore.
Am I trapped in this cold world?
I want to break free...
Grow wings, fly away with bees and butterflies...
Travel like pollen, helping another flower make more flowers, leaving the other flower to be pollinated by other travelers, grow into my own, new beating heart.
That is how the paths of people cross.
One day, I will find my path.
For now, I shall wander though the brambles of the forest and help the others who have already found their path.
A fiery pheonix, a prancing deer, and an owl looked down upon have already found my path, and uncovered much of it for me already.
The little, lost rabbit.
Soon, we'll part, and go on our own paths.
I know that we'll meet again.
Pheonix, Matty, Owl... and me, Rini.
I don't want to see us not together.
That's not worth spending time on.
I'll miss you dearly, every one of you.
 silvasylph575 · Sun Nov 19, 2006 @ 01:42am · 0 Comments |
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