The story that i'm it's writter

4. Dusty papers, colorful drawings

A/N : this chapter's writing style is kinda different.

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She found it, those very first drawings of her story characters, she wasn't disappointed, her reaction was just opposite of the rest artists reactions when they see their old drawings. Her face was like awe, eyes sparkled, for someone who almost forgot how to draw, this wasn't much less than a masterpiece, yet, she didn't know how she drawn them back then, it's not like she forgot, she doubts if she can draw her old drawings.......again.

She looks at the dusty papers on her hands, examining them, looking at the various characters on it, male and female, with different hairstyles and different hair colors, even if those drawings were older than one year, the characters on it were shining, they seemed so happy, she could admit it, the characters were much happier than herself.

It was about twenty minutes that she was on her knees on the floor, looking at her drawings paper by paper, the colors were still shining. She wanted to try it, she wanted to try drawing again, but it was like something inside her was trying to stop her, she didn't know what exactly it was, she wasn't sure if it was her laziness, or it was because of her low self-confidence, hesitation or perhaps it was.....her fear. She was afraid to not be able to draw good, like back then, not mentioning art block, she've hadn't drawn over a year and she was afraid to draw a mess and ruin the paper.

Even practicing wasn't working much for her, she tried and practiced, even though she knew that practicing doesn't mean drawing 3-4 times once a month and stop when you see no improvements in your drawings.

Finally after couple of minutes, she managed to stand up with the paper in her hands, not caring about the mess her room was now, she placed the dusty yet colorful papers on her table, she took out a notebook from her bag and sat behind her desk, opened a random blank page with thin black lines on it since it wasn't drawing notebook but she didn't care, and reached for her etude.

She focused on her old drawings, trying to draw the exact same on the blank paper but there was a problem......She had no idea where to start from or how she start, should she draw hair first? Or face shape? Or eyes? She had no clue, she then let her etude touch the paper, and slowly moved it.

Which made a cracked line, soon she reached for her eraser and erased the line, this time she was more serious yet more stressed, as if it was an exam, she started from a random part by focusing on her old drawings, it wasn't going that bad, until she thought maybe she can't draw that good. As soon as this thought popped in her mind, her hands trembled, the lines became cracky as if the etude had such heavy weight, she was getting irritated, she wanted to draw, but her hands...or more like, her low self-confidence wouldn't let her.

After a few moments of failed trying and to her impatience, she ripped the paper she was drawing on and crumpled it then threw it to a random place in her room, not caring where, then she grabbed her head in her hands.

"I knew....i can't"

Little did she know that her drawing skill is right beside her, or perhaps, somewhere inside her.

A/N : thanks for reading my story ^^