That girl
Go
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Get up and go-don't be scared just be there. It can change your whole life trust me. My gut begged.
I was however was disinclined to the notion, unsure if I could trust anyone as my own instincts had done little sail me through life well.
The past few months had been great, managed to sell various pieces, I'd worked on way back. My Art studio was picking up quite steadily here as it could ever have back home in England. I'm not sure if the monarchy had a hand in business trades moving much slower.
I was flustered and found it a little queer that the people here bought anything that simply fascinated their eyes. Take for example the pond I sketched when I was back home in Wales, I had framed it well and never imagined someone would show interest in it. If anything pay so handsomely to obtain it, again-very capricious of him. I'm not complaining though, my monthly bills got settled.
I'm an artist-it's all I have been since I was only seven. I'd sketch, I'd paint-I wouldn't wait to be told my passion because I perfectly understood it. It's beauty and when my mother passed on, I grieved inconsolably through sombre paintings. Countless nights I slept in our basement, doing what I did best. Colors changed with each brushstroke and it pleased me very much for mundane objects to make sense of my life. Artistry was my safe haven an escape cave from my introverted nature, from the world, from friends I barely had. Perhaps I was born to be socially awkward, I often ratified my thoughts.
My weakness and as such, drawback was my shyness; afraid expose myself for the world to see. I was aware how judgemental and critiquing people were, no wonder my abstinence from social media. And by this, all my works remained covered in layers of dust in the basement.
Once I made a perfect painting of the colloseum in Rome, I was only seventeen then. It had been a silent project in my time off school, Italy, like Paris always fascinated me. I finished it a year later fully detailed, against the light an outstanding spectrum was displayed. I loved it, it was perfect as far as I thought but after I finished working on it I had nothing in mind to keep me going. In my seclusion, many thought something was extremely wrong with me.
A few said I'd lost a nut, I ignored them.
Not until Mike, my long time cute outgoing senior crush and eventual boyfriend took it upon himself to help me out. He submitted one of my paintings to a media house after reading some advertisement. It got run in the papers and everyone was buzzing about it. I won £5000 Euros and soon after got a scholarship to the London school of Arts; a year a half later I was done with my course skipping some units for the great credit scores I got. It came to me as a surprise when my Art lecturer suggested my name to interested parties and soon afterwards I got an offer to be signed to a branch in Las Angeles.
Mike begged me not to go but I told him it was necessary, that it would be good for my future. Our future if he saw one with me.
"If you leave Wales, if and when you leave me! There'll is no future. You and I both know long distance relationship never work." He'd warned, threatened even but I wasn't about to cave, that was an awesome opportunity.
His threats grew in me and I found them obnoxious, he obviously didn't have the patience with me, ever shoving away my regards. It made me resent him, his ideologies I supposed he no longer was interested in my dreams. Evidently purporting to deter me from achieving my life goals. I eventually signed on the offer to move to LA just maybe for self actualization and also to prove him wrong.
He grew ballistic, cussed at me over ine late night tipsy phone, prophesying my ruination, how I wouldn't survive the culture here. The fellow told me I'd be miserable and run back to home to him but he would have moved on. Right after hanging up, he broke up with me, via text! Callous, never even came to see me off at the airport. I was heart broken, flew from the UK in misery but my passion for work nudged me to move on.
I looked at my sketch of his face, I'd drawn it, was to give it to him on his twenty fourth birthday. I held a deep breath looking at his disapproving eyes as they gazed at mine intently. After much deliberation, I fumbled into the drawer stretching my hand to grab a lighter. Then I watched it burn, his face disintegrated as the ashes fell into the dustbin.
Take a leap of faith-go, be happy even for a night. What's the worst that can happen if you say yes to a dinner? He's twice the man Mike was and so far, he seems like a gentleman.
I finally got rid of Michael Graham and that was that. Too exhausted from the studio work, I opted to close shop earlier than usual.
"Everything is a go-" I thought, discarding my memories, of being orphaned, of him and of missing my big sister back in London. I didn't wish for anything to ruin the blissful moment.
Only to delight in being that girl who'd free herself from her past.
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A/N: Thanks for reading:)
