failed attempts to fly

if you've been waiting for falling in love

Art is subjective. Each artist is unique, incorporating their version of art into the world.

Still, what I would give to be able to draw 2-d characters to my heart's content, I would be a happy camper. But for some reason, my "calling" is nature. Because who cares about drawing attractive made-up people with broad shoulders and a flirtatious smirking grin that makes the inside of my legs flutter?

Instead of being blessed to be able to draw the squelches and ahhs, I can doddle trees.

Still, it's a beautiful tree, and regardless of my drawing style, there's nothing like when my mind goes completely blank. Nothing but a piece of paper in front of me.

I always thought there was almost a lingering sadness to the pastel petals, waiting to ultimately blow away with the wind. It's only for a short while, where the blue skies mixed with the pink. The entire ground gets covered in cotton candy, and the fresh smell brings a time of change. But then, with all things, they'll eventually wilt and disappear. It's a necessary process for nature. But why does something so beautiful last for such a small amount of time?

I noticed the large tree last spring, how it drapes over the school entrance, welcoming everyone walking body to a new season.

When I finally decided to draw it, I missed my window, and the cherry blossoms seemed to have never existed.

Maybe it was fated, having the tree in perfect view during lit class. Takeda unlocks his classroom one hour before class starts to allow a quiet space for studying or my case, drawing.

With my headphones and my favorite pencil, I'm in my own world, just me, the tree, and the Nectar Album on repeat.

The nonstop rock music has mellowed out to the sweet heart aching music that hits your soul. And Joji does just that.

I always envied those who can confidently execute so much emotion from their craft. Art, music, anything that a person does that they pour their heart and soul into so passionately that I can feel it emanating from a song lyric or a piece of paper. I wish to be able to do that, to experience that.

The tingling sensation from a sweet melody, singing of heartache, of romance. Simple lyrical words mixed with the perfect pairing of instruments to make a masterpiece.

Souls that dream alone lie awake

Like a fluttering cherry blossom petal, breezing from the tree to my sketchbook, to the corner of my eye. A glittering figure blinds me, turning my attention to the classroom entrance.

I thought of him frequently. Daydreaming about when we'd see each other again. There he was, taking the remainder of my breath from my body.

We shared a similar dumbfounded expression as our eyes locked.

How many times have I roamed the crowded hallways, head in the clouds, eyes on the floor? If only I'd looked up just once, if our eyes only locked for a millisecond, I would have noticed him. And I'm also sure he would have never even known I existed. I don't necessarily stand out, the exact opposite, actually. People usually say, "I didn't know you were here." A perfect description of my entire existence.

Almost desperately, I waved at him.

Notice me, notice me.

Because through my surprise and my heart beating rapidly, I couldn't help but smile ear at his wildly attractive face.

But it was not how his joggers hugged his lower body or how I could see his chest bulging through his compression shirt. It was a slight wrinkle in between his eyebrows, one slightly raised. An expression that maybe he wasn't happy to see me as I was him.