.00 | prologue

—they like to think I'm perfect. I like to think I'm perfect, too. Unfortunately, I'm not.

You know how people like to say things like "you'll do great things in life" or "you're talented, you can do anything"—and if you know what I'm talking about, then you also know that these people are usually your family, or your friends, or if you're very lucky, your teachers.

I think the thing that so many of them never really realized is that it builds up a certain kind of ego in you. It makes you think you're so great, so talented, bright, and successful. And the thing that you never realized is that none of this is actually you. They're just words—empty words.

So when you step out of your make believe shelter that your family and friends built for you over the years, and you realized that you're actually none of what they claimed you were—what do you do?

I had no idea what to do. Actually, I still don't. I have no frikken clue what to do. And it's scary.

Sometimes I talk to my friends about it, and they'd reassure me. Repeating things I already know are false: "Dude, you're really good, you have nothing to worry about." – "At least you're better than half of the people here." And my favorite: "Stop comparing yourself to other people, you're not bad at what you do."

Sometimes I really want to tell my family that I don't think I can do this. That I've made a mistake and I'm sorry for wasting your money but I think I should do something else. But I can't. Because circumstances makes this my only choice, and it's scary. It's scary and frustrating that I can't even turn to my family for support because they've given me their all, and the last thing I want to do is disappoint them.

So I would reveal ten percent of my worries to my friends, and put on a façade to my family. And with my teachers, I would pretend like I'm not worried at all. I would pretend that I'm satisfied with the level that I'm at, and that I will improve my skills by the upcoming semesters.

And so I would feel good for a while. Sometimes, if I'm very lucky, a long while—a few months, at most. And then the things would start coming back. The beautiful paintings, the unique and varying characters, the gorgeous silhouette shapes, and the expressive faces. I hate it when I start noticing them again. Most of my peers tend to be inspired but I would just loathe myself.

Especially when the beautiful things are made by someone younger than me, then everything crumbles. I would cry a little inside, as the expression goes, but I would actually wail into my pillows for an hour or so. Then I'd try drawing, and every single stroke is wrong.

A lot of times, after reflecting to make myself feel at least a bit better, I would tell myself that if I have the energy to cry over things that should've inspired me, I should gather that amount of energy to actually practice my skills to get better.

It's not like I don't have any skills with me. I have some, just not enough.

But I'm not a prodigy and I always feel like I need to get better now. I mean, half of my family is already skeptical of my decision to be an artist. And for someone who wants to work for a company, the competition is high and there are literally hundreds and thousands of people with skills far beyond mine.

And this would get me crying again. Not really.

I would just panic, and maybe draw some shit doodles of the same face facing the same direction because I suck at drawing people facing the right side. There's just something about that position that makes it very awkward and difficult to draw.

I know every artist struggles. But perhaps the struggle is a bit less difficult when you at least know what you're doing? I mean, I guess I know what I'm doing.

Do I?

Anyway, hello to you, whoever you are—my name's Sakura. Haruno Sakura. I'm a college student, majoring in Illustration. My dad wanted me to major in something along the line of business or finance, which seemed like a bad idea back then. But I was just lazy, and I didn't want to think. Now that I think about it, I should've taken up the offer because at least I'd land an office job.

But do I really want to be cooped up in some miserable cubicle? I don't know. I probably won't enjoy it much and I'd definitely wonder what would've happened if I had pursued art.

Man, I miss when everything's simpler. Like, ten years ago, you know. Back in elementary school when the hardest decision you'd have to make was choosing to either eat in the classroom or in the yard.

Well anyway, name's Haruno Sakura, just in case you missed it the first time around. This story's nothing special, really. I'm just a college student who is perhaps in the verge of madness. I think a lot of you can relate, though, and isn't that something special about writing, or reading. Well, both.

It's like we're talking to each other but it's really all one sided.

So yeah, hey, and thanks for picking up this book. We'll walk through the whole thing one chapter at a time, and hopefully we'll find a satisfying conclusion at the end. Maybe not a happy ending but hopefully something better than the beginning, a suitable closure, shall we say? Sounds good?

Yeah, I think so, too.

a/n |

Well, this is basically me, projecting myself through Sakura. No, seriously though, everything I said so far is me and my struggles as an artist. I'll add some bits here and there that never really happened to me, so this can be categorized as half autobiography/memoir, half fiction?

I know I have twenty stories waiting to be updated, but I really want to write this cause it's something I relate to personally. Literally.

Anyway, reviews are appreciated. I'll update this daily, maybe it can be like a diary or something.

A diary of past things, and of things that never happened. Sounds cool.

—DramaDelicacy