Painting Dreams

Dreams

I took my brush, picked a color, and stared for a while at the white canvass, not knowing if what I wanted to paint would help me in any way. A strand of brownish hair fell into my face, blocking my sight. With a sigh, I picked it up, with all the other little hairs in my face, and combed it into a ponytail again. 

I started with my work, letting my thoughts fly freely, once more not caring about everyone else, but at the same time worried. Because no matter how much effort I put into the painting, if it wasn't of the people's taste, it wouldn't work. I knew, that if I tried a little more, I would do a boring drawing of a simple landscape. Some trees over here, a lake there, and some birds in the air. 

But it wasn't what I wanted. I loved art in any possible way, always falling for the beautiful Pink Peach Tree of Van Gogh, or crying at the sound of Shostakovich's Symphony 5. Art send me to a whole different world, in which no one but I could enter. 

The Royal Academy was my chance. 

But if I didn't gain the money, I could say bye to it. 

I could feel the brush being broken because of my hand's force, but I still moved my wrist, as if the color could still penetrte the horrible white. As I finished it, I smiled tomyself with satsfaction, thinking that the painting wasn't boring, but it was similar to what everyone liked. I took the canvass, with the little smile still on my face, and ran down the stairs of my little studio. 

Down, my store was open, with millions of different paintings and drawings, each one of a different size. To my eyes they were all beau|ti|ful, but I guess that for everybody else... they weren't. 

I placed the painting of a purple sunset in |my collection, hoping it would change my future. SUuch a hope, on a little picture... 

An old lady, with a pink dress, came inside, watching each of my works. She wasn't smiling, neither she was frowning. Her feelings were unreadable on her face, but she didn't go away. 

I approached her, with my hands of my back, suddenly aware that my hands and clothes were smudgy, just as surely my face was. Nervous around people, I tried to keep my smile on my face, scared of saying anythig. The woman noticed me before I could speak. 

-You painted these? - Her voice was firm, and maybe kind, but with my nerves, I only noted the firm part. 

- Yeah... Do... Do you like any? I am selling them. The money I gain, I'll use it for paying my studies in the Royal Academy- I couldn't look at her old grey eyes, which were obviously judging me, so I just looked down and played with my hands, hoping for the moment to pass. 

She smirked and raised her eyebrow. 

-You want to go to that university? - 

-Yes! It's my dream...- 

She snorted and my smile faded away. 

-Good luck with that! Even if you raised the money, I do't think they would let you inside. I mean, have you even seen your face dear? Is so messy! And your, eh, work is just so... weird. Sorry but you need to stop spending all this time in dreams- She waved and got out of the store, leaving me speechless inside. 

My heart hurted as if being stubbed by a knife. 

How could she talk to me like that? She was only an old lady dressed in a horrible pink dress that came by my store just to judge me and my art... 

She could... she could...

-Argh! - I swear I was about to punch the wall, but I controled myself somehow. 

The day passed, and night came. My store as closed, and as always, nothing good came from it. I swored and sighed as I lyed on my bed, covering myself with the sheets. A tear rolled down my cheek, with a sour taste in my lips.