Easy to peel off
I was an art student.
By that I mean that I do art in a very formalway. I started with sketch at the right age, doing it professionally with theright kind of teacher helping me. I wasn't a diligent student in any sense, Ijust had enough talent to actually come to the second place in the studio - ofcourse I am not the best one. I have never been the best one my entire life.
Anyway, that kind of education is flawless inthe sense of teaching you the technic. The so call USSR-influenced way ofteaching have served me well in learning how to observe things and to capturethe best light. It had changed my mind and had made me believe that it was theright way to do things. I thought realistic was the only way to express myfeelings.
But I never was and, no matter how much I try,would never be one who can really get used to frames and rules. I obey them, Irespect them, I don't play the most decent kind of trick that can give me aprivilege over things but kind of, only kind of, disrespect the rules. I justdon't. Rules and restrictions had and will always tame me from the outside, butnever the inside. Deep inside, I have the urge and enthusiasm to be ejectedoutside, through my horrible art, through my stumbling words, and through myawful scratches on the paper or spells that relies on spell check excessivelyon the screen. I know I have it, but i never had the chance to face it with allsincere, in the right climate with the best temperature and moisture, throughthe right light and the sound voice, sitting the opposite side of the tablefrom a dear friend that knows you spiritually.
I was a shame for me, and the kind ofeducation I had received.
Yet there's something more. Just havingun-tamed thoughts towards the world makes me a standard youngster typical forthe world after industrial revolution. Only if I have the courage tobreakthrough and to show myself I would be one of those rebels, enjoying thefreedom won by themselves, and get praised for doing what they should have donereally. A step further would be becoming a real artist, writer, or anythinglike that that may encourage the generation, to inspire the world for sure, andto live a life as a legend.
I am a coward. I dream, but I am too afraidto lose, even online I would fear the possibility of not getting liked. I triedto open a fake account talking shit to people and to be hated. To tear thatlayer of disguise around me apart and to become a real one for the first time.Not to live a easier life, just to get myself see what's really inside me.
As a child I dreamed of being a literallyalmighty girl, having the power of controlling her heart as peeling an onion. Idreamed of me having the ability to disguise differently as different kinds ofperson around others, being tired but looked witty. At that time I thoughtputting on masks and keeping them was difficult. However, throughout the yearsI finally realize that the process of putting things on is much easier thanpeeling them off. It's hard to be honest, especially to be honest to yourself.Life truly is an all-live show, and the saying of "acting sophisticated iseasy, what's really hard is to play innocence" applies as well.
I cannot face the inner side of myself, andall that possibility of getting criticized. I have a unrealistically highstandard for myself, and, unfortunately, waste my life entirely because of that- I'll never be as good as I want to be. I promise myself not to touchillegal/some legal drug at all cost, because I know how pessimistic I am, and ,how easily I can get addicted to them. I already live a life stoned withoutthem, and I certainly don't need them for getting more miserable. I take allnon-positive comments as a negative ones, all positive ones as complimentsonly, and find all that I have conquered easy afterwards. I think about otherswith great respect or great despise. I don't get happy enough. That pushes meforward and tied me to the ground at the same time.
It's painful to know what a waste of yourselfon giving up the most likely passion of your life, and you just cannot be anymore brave.