my pastel blue and pink spread across the canvas as my paintbrush sat in the jar water.
i was totally mind blanked and i had absolutely no ideas.
dammit.
i look around the art room for inspiration. i see patterns of all sorts, i see portraits, beaches, sunsets, but nothing i feel would get me a good mark.
then i have inspiration.
i'll draw phil; the masterpiece.
my hand shakes mildly as i put the tip of my pencil into the canvas.
the first stroke of the lead covers as small- tiny- section of blue paint.
that one stroke would soon turn into a masterpiece. only if i can do it right, though.
i look around, trying to see if i had any way of remembering the boys exact features.
yes, it was a bit weird that i was drawing the boy i've only known for two hours. but i'll get a good mark if i draw a masterpiece, if i draw perfection.
and that's exactly what u was doing.
because as weird as it is to say, philip lester was perfect. he had no flaws, nothing wrong with his body, face, personality, name.
he was utter perfection.
and all i wanted was that boy.
that boy that made me question myself.
the masterpiece.
the perfectly constructed human.
although i'll never have him, it doesn't stop me from being friends with him.
at all.
i continue my drawing, pencil lines now semi converting the entire canvas.
it's hard to draw perfection.
doesn't mean i won't try though.
✨
yes hi thanks
goodbye
