I was just an artist.
An artist who loved someone who dances to both classical music and hip-hop. She can be the best among the rest, heck she can win a competition with millions of competitors. She's just that great.
The artist who loved sketching such different facial features of the girl she loves.
The artist who captures photos of every contest her first love shows up in.
The artist who supported her first love in everything that she did.
The artist who made an effort of drawing a portrait of her beloved ballerina, the artist who made an effort just to make poems for her beloved penguin, the artist who sacrificed herself for the sake of a ballerina in danger.
The artist who lost her soul in process of finding and conquering the ballerina's heart.
It was useless.
Her portraits? Didn't even got appreciation from the ballerina herself.
Her poems? Didn't even got compliments from the penguin she loved.
Her efforts? Went unnoticed as a lover but noticed for just a friend.
I should've just told her right away and didn't beat around the bush.
