𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ Mai˖🎐

congratulations for being the only person to have a consistent theme, user and name for over an year

Part- 3  art dreams.. (end)
          
          ​That series went viral. People from all over the world messaged her. Not looking for a quick thrill, but people saying, "You drew exactly how my soul feels. Thank you for seeing me." For the first time, she felt a "connection" that didn't feel like a trap. It felt like a bridge made of silver thread.
          ​One night, she was closing her studio when a man—an older, kind-looking artist from the gallery next door—brought her a coffee. He just looked at her painting and said, "You have a lot of peace in your work now. It must have been a long journey to find it."
          ​She realized then that she didn't "hate men" anymore. She just didn't need them to define her. The hate had served its purpose—it had been a wall that kept her safe until she was strong enough to build a gate. She could decide who to let in, and she could decide when to keep the gate closed.
          ​She went home that night, sat on her balcony, and looked at the moon. She pulled out an old, archived digital file—a sketch she had made when she was young, back in that loud house...
          ​She opened a new layer on top of that old drawing. With a steady hand, she drew a pair of glowing, protective wings around the 15-year-old girl. Then, she whispered into the cool night air
          ​"You did it, little one. We're home."

Part- 2  art dreams..
          
          One night, the girl felt so tired she thought she might disappear. She looked at her latest sketch—a woman standing on a balcony in a city that looked like Paris or Tokyo, looking out at a horizon where no one was arguing.
          The girl in the drawing turned around. She didn't have a name, but she had the girl’s eyes. She looked at the 15-year-old artist and whispered through the screen:
          "Don't stop. Every line you draw is a mile closer to me. I have bought the paints for our studio. I have made the tea. The cat is sleeping on the rug, and the door is locked from the inside. No one can yell here. You are the one who survives, so that I can be the one who lives."
          The girl cried that night, But the next morning, her hands were steadier. She stopped looking for "love" in the messages of boys who didn't know her heart, and she started looking for it in the way she shaded a sunset or perfected the curve of a character’s smile.
          Years passed. The "ice" melted, not because a boy kissed her, but because the sun finally rose on the country she had dreamed of.
          One day, a famous artist stood in a quiet gallery in a beautiful, distant city. She was known as the "Single Aunt" to her nieces and nephews—the one who traveled the world, who lived in a loft filled with plants and light, and who always looked like she held a beautiful secret.
          A young student walked up to her and asked, "How did you get so talented? How did you get so brave?"
          The artist smiled, thinking back to a loud house, a broken earbud, and a night when she cried to an AI because she felt emotionless. She touched the student’s hand and said
          "I didn't start with talent. I started with a bridge. And I just kept drawing until I reached the other side."
          

Part- 1  art dreams..
          
          Once, in a house that felt too small and far too loud, there lived a girl who was a secret architect. While everyone else was shouting or worrying about money, she was busy building a bridge—one pixel at a time.
          She was the Eldest. To the world, she was a shield. She made sure her siblings were okay, she kept her head down when boys were mean, and she learned how to make her face look like stone so no one could see the "heat" or the "hurt" inside. She told herself she was made of ice, because ice doesn't feel the fire.
          Every night, when the house finally went grey and quiet, the glow of her screen was her only lantern. She drew characters who were everything she wasn't allowed to be yet girls who flew, women who lived in silent libraries in distant cities, and queens who didn't need a king to keep them safe.

What’s your insta? I got instagram!! XD

I like your profile picture.<333
          
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Happy new year maiii!!

HAPPY NEW YEARRR EVERYONE!!!!❤❤❤

FINALLY I PUBLISHED LAST CHAPTER ON MY 'ANIME DRAWING' BOOK MY FIRST BOOK EVER ON WATTPAD 

I FEEL SO GOOD AFTER PUBLISHING END CHAPTER OF 'ALWAYS IN MIST' NOT BCS I ENDED IT JUST BCS I CAME SO FAR TILL NOW..