𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐊𝐄𝐘 - 𝐑. 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐀

𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

NINETEEN
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Four days have passed and Zumi was finally able to finish painting one background for the school festival, though she has yet to start on the second one.

    Art block was one of the greatest enemies that all artists face for at least more than a few times in their life. The frustration that builds up inside their gut as they try and force their own mind to think of an idea that would satisfy their own standards.

And then comes when they start drawing – nothing seems to look nice or special compared to the bursts of inspiration that naturally occurs to them almost rarely.

    Every single line that they force themselves to draw looked bland and half-assed. Even the very meaning of the image that they are trying to portray did not project its true essence and it was mainly just because of the fact that it was drawn not for the sake of their own enjoyment.

    It was created just for the sake of being able to draw something.

    Zumi's hand dragged across widely over the large piece of paper that laid out onto the floor, taking advantage of all the space that it could give her. Her hands carelessly tried to draw the draft of an image, mimicking what she usually does whenever she felt inspired.

    Her lips were pulled to a frown with her brows furrowed as the Sun shone directly across her face, though she paid no mind to it even when the heat started to blur her peripheral vision. The only thing that plagued her mind was the thrumming rhythm inside of her bones that caged her heart, feeling it ache while her mind drifted off to unwelcomed thoughts.

    Today just happened to be one of the days where she felt her lowest and it was more than irritating that it happened at such random times. And today just happened to be the day where her mind thought about unnecessary and degrading comments about herself, and it was all because of what she believed to be her toxic trait.

    "Hoga-san." Kita tried to capture the attention of his classmate who he was helping with painting, but she didn't seem to hear him. He bit his lip as he watched her blank eyes stare down at the image she was drawing, her hand unintentionally moving at a rapid pace absentmindedly. He paused from his painting and sat up straighter.

    Zumi's hand that now clutched the pencil tightly started to forcefully drag the pencil down roughly and recklessly against the paper, her brows furrowing further with her trembling mouth pulling down.

And she did all this subconsciously like her mind had this default action that told her to act a certain way when she was becoming more and more agitated. She didn't want to take it out on herself do she took it out on the paper.

    "Hoga-san."

    The lines that fell on the space of the paper were now bold with minuscule and multiple shards of led laying down beside the path of where the pencil ran, but nevertheless, her mind fogged and blurred while her hand just continued drawing rapidly.

    I'm alright. I'm alright. I'm alright. I'm alright.

    I'm alright. I'm alright. I'm alright. I'm alright.

    I'm alright. I'm alright. I'm alright. I'm alright.

    I'm alright. I'm alright. I'm alright I'm alright.