We’ve known each other a while now. It’s been about 14 years since I first picked up a paintbrush. It was a sunny day, I was on my terrace. I instantly fell in love with you. I didn’t even know your name back then, art. I just knew that you were meant for me. So I spent countless hours on the terrace, with paintbrushes and paper, drawing and colouring my heart out.
While growing up, you were always there for me. You manifested yourself in pencils and canvases and dreams. You made me smile and laugh and get inspired. You were the reason I didn’t do my homework and painted my wall instead. You gave me reason, art.
So naturally, I thought that you were never going to leave my side. I thought that we would always remain this close, that the light would never fade. But I think it’s changing, art. I’m not the same person anymore. Maybe you aren’t meant for me. Maybe I’m just too expressive and too less expressive. Maybe my ideas just can’t breathe in colour. But I won’t forget you, art. You’ll always remain special. A little part of me will always sit on the terrace and paint her heart out. Thanks for everything, art.
Until next time,
Your confused lover.