The Artist (Who Never Was)

When I was growing up, all I wanted to do was draw and become an artist. I spent endless hours with pencil and paper and even did it during times that I wasn't supposed to (like during math or history). I was obsessed and was constantly reprimanded for it in school.

But I had bad art teachers. Bad uninspiring art teachers. Adults who wanted to be somewhere else than teaching shiny, new souls to fly to immense heights. Some were miserable people. Some were mean or sarcastic or blind.

So, being that young and not getting the needed guidance, I never learned how to draw or paint.
Now, I just can't draw. I have nothing. All those dreams drained out of me like blood.

But there was no way that kind of ugliness would hold me back. Luckily, I had a great music teacher which made all the difference in the world.