Sinking

stress

With happiness came worry, I suppose.

Another week passed, and I still had nothing finished or even planned for my artwork. I had no ideas; I probably could have just sat in front of a canvas and let my brush do the work, but I didn't think about it then, not when the stress was eating me alive. Finding me when I attempted sleep and tearing at my skin, reappearing every time I felt calm at all and forcing my relaxation to vanish at every chance it got.

Painting had never made me feel like this before, I'd never stood in front of a blank canvas only to have the same emptiness in my mind. I'd never stared at a plain white image for hours, wondering where the inspiration I so desperately needed had gone off to.

I now only had two weeks to finish seven paintings and write about them. School wasn't helping, and preparing for graduation wasn't either. If I didn't even get my paintings done, there was absolutely no chance of winning the scholarship, if there was any chance at all in the first place. What would I do then? Find a different job somewhere and move into a crappy apartment with Phil? Neither of us making enough to fulfill our dream of traveling the world?

Worrying about my entire life plan wasn't helping with the stress of this project, either.

At the moment, I was at Troye's house with Phil, Connor, Tyler, and Louise. We'd driven here after school in Troye's car, and now Phil and Louise were engaging in a game of Mario Kart, while Tyler and Connor ate all of the food in the fridge. I was sitting on the couch with my head in my hands, pretending to listen to whatever Troye was ranting about beside me.

"So I have this song that I'm not even sure I'm happy with. It might become a reject for the EP," He was explaining, "'Blue Moon'. It's kind of.. eh."

"Hmph," I replied, leaning on Phil, whose shoulders were moving because of how intensely Mario Kart was being played.

Troye paused. "Are you okay?" He asked me quietly, and I shrugged. I knew that he knew about the whole art project, but I don't think anyone but Phil understood how deep within the crevice of stress I was.

The only good thing about this was that I wasn't sad. There was nothing to be sad about, for once; only things to be stressed about. But I was happy because Phil and I were working again, although nothing had stopped working, really. We'd thought it had, but love hadn't been lost and trust was rebuilding and it seemed the only thing in our future was a clear horizon, if not filled with bumps of life difficulty. Daisy had always said to me that riches or success didn't matter if you had love and happiness. Considering the way I was expecting things to go, I hoped she was right.

I didn't notice that Phil had paused he and Louise's game. "He's in a rut," My boyfriend told our friend. "With the art scholarship and everything."

"Oh," Troye pouted, scooting over to wrap his skinny arms around me. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," I replied, my voice muffled. "I don't know what to do or how to get inspiration."

There was silence for a short moment before Phil spoke up with hope in his voice. "Babe," He started, "How about this weekend we go for a walk? Just a real long one, and maybe you'll see something to help start a spark."

I nodded against Troye's arm. "Okay, maybe. I doubt it will help."

"Don't be a Danny Downer," He scolded, making me smile. "You'll get it. Even if not until the night before. Once I watched a show where a guy wrote an entire album in eleven hours."

Troye let out a loud breath. "I'm glad I'm not that poor sucker." I laughed, which seemed to make the boys feel better about my current mental stance. I was so glad I had my friends to rely on when I felt like I was snapping at the edges. If I had to deal with this while faced with the crippling loneliness and young hopelessness I'd felt only back in September; I had no idea whether or not I would have been able to handle it. Would I have even had the courage to try?