𝑅𝑜𝑐𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑|| 𝑗.ℎ

Epilogue

"Looks like someone didn't do what she was suppose to do." The familiar voice rang through my ears. Looking up from my journal Micheal sits across from me in the booth.

"No, I'm just writing because I can. I writing what come natural to me. I don't know maybe it will inspire my next painting."

"Yeah the world-famous Emilia Allen, getting inspiration from her bestfriend. I can already see it on billboards."

"Shut up nimrod." I scoff. He sends me a sheepish smile before pulling out his phone and checking his emails

I'm now 23 and have a job one of the top painting industry in the country. I sometimes paint for them however most of the time it's just me seeing how good a painting is. So all this world-famous painter shit is a load of bull. I'm content with what I do.

These last 6 years have been hard, especially the first year or so but in the end, I've gotten to where I want to be.

I moved to Michigan actually, no where near where Lily is from, more up north near Michigan University. Micheal offered for me to move into his apartment is second year of College and I took the offer and haven't left since. I miss the old ground of Tennessee but Michigan isn't too bad and it's insanely pretty here.

Micheal works as a coach now for college football at the university and he loves his job. He wanted to stop playing football after college but wanted to still stay in contact with the sport. Michigan had a job open right after he graduated and he got in. He loves what he does and I always make fun of him at mad he gets at his players on game day, he's a whole new level of mean.

Besides all of that, lifes been okay. I see a therapist every week. I'm still working out something, it's not like these things can just go away. I don't talk to anyone from my past expect from Micheal, we've became extremely close. I haven't bothered trying to find anything to do with my family. They are dead to me. I still have nightmares, some nights Michael will coax me through them but he hasn't mastered the way Jaden use to and that's okay.

I haven't heard a word from him since that day he called me and I think i'm okay with that. He still lives in LA and has some music out. He's doing pretty good but that is just what the media portrays. I just hope he is still the guy I knew somewhere down there.

Micheal has talked to him and still talks to him every once an awhile but never has he once brought me into any conversation and neither has Jaden so to say the least, we both are happy living our own lives.

"So what are you writing exactly?" Micheal butts into my thoughts. I shrug my shoulders looking down at my paper.

"Remember that one day in highschool I was working on a project I had and I was stuck on writing it?" He shakes his head. "Well the rough draft I kept for some reason and I was thinking of finishing it. I have a speech coming up for work that my boss wants to present in the next showing so I'm also trying to figure that out."

"You seem busy. Ew" We both let out a soft chuckle before we dive into how our days were.

-

Walking out onto the small platform, I take notice of how many people are actually here,I never expect these many people, especially due to the fact it's an art convention. When they all notice my presence, the room falls silent and all eyes go onto me.

You can do this.

"Good afternoon, I hope you all are doing well."

"I guess you are expecting a speech, well I'm going to be honest with you. I haven't written one." Confused glares spread throughout the crowd. There at least has to be over a 2,000  people here.

"I was taught in high school, you need to be prepared for things. Have everything ready and neat but if we all are being honest here. I'd never thought I'd live to see the day I'd make it to 23 and if you were to tell my 17 year old self I would be doing this right now, i'd think you were out of your mind but here I am." A small set of laughs coarser around the people, a soft set smile on my face.

"However there are countless of time, I ramble on and on about art, you can even ask my bestfriend who hears an earful of it. However I don't think people understand how meaningful art can actually be.

Art is a form of how people express there emotions when words can't, the same ways writer write. Often, we make this so called picture that seems like nothing to the eye but if you take a closer look, those words or picture don't just make someone imagination, they make up the creator behind it. It's how we express ourselves without letting the world know who we really are.

Now of course, this can't be seen to the eye. You will never read a book with characters with a deeper meaning than the author portrays but the readers who look deeper into things realize there is more than what means the eye. In paintings, there meaning lies in not what they paint, but how they paint. However, only people who are willing to look deep enough will see this. They will see each stroke and they can see the emotions behind it. They look at each artwork and see the dedication and they will be able to read it like an open book.

It's quite odd if i'm honest. Painting is just seen as a hobby but I think all of us in this room see it as more. We see art as something way more.

I was prompt to write a speech that inspires people. How could I simply inspire an artist to paint? How could I as one human do that but then it clicked.

It made me think back to the time in high school where I was in love with a guy. He completely changed me as a person, flipped my world upside down and I mean literally. He took what I had known and he turned that into something that was worth living. Just one single human being made me change my ways. My senior year of high school I was barley getting by and by the end of it all, I graduated early all do you one person.

You're probably wondering what the hell that has to do with this showing or convention but my point is, in art you have to have a bold stroke. This one single movement or line will be your inspiration for your whole piece. If you look in every single one of these paintings in theses rooms, you can see one prominent stroke that sticks out from the rest. If you were to take that away, you would be left with something incomplete.

This single stroke wasn't the last stroke they did, it was there first. It made a lasting impact that guided the painter to a work of art.

So what i'm getting at is you have to make a bold stroke. Without that bold stroke the painting never come alive, without that bold line that book never becomes powerful.

You have to have a bold line in order to grow, it just so happened to be he was my bold line. That kid from high school that was only in my life for a year ended up being the bold stroke that inspired my life's work and without him, I would simply be nothing.

So take that and every time you sit down and paint or view another persons work, look for the bold stroke, it tells all the secrets you'll ever need to know."

Giving one last smile to the crowd that looks in awe, I walk off the stage and head back to the entrance hallway of where the convention is being held, trying to collect myself.

Everything I said out there was true and I don't regret it one bit.

Jaden really was my bold stroke. He taught me what it was like to breathe and showed me there is light. He was the one who dragged me out of the hole.

The night he left and blocked me number was the night I lose all hope. I struggled for so long trying to bring myself back up once more and when I finally did, when I finally started breathing, I never realized I would have never been able to do that without him.

Some people are meant to come and leave. They came into our lives for a reason. His reason happened to be to teach what life was like and that I can do it on my own and he did exactly that.

He ended up being the bold stroke I ever so needed.