Trash
He bit his lip at the word
strange, since he himself was the one who said it
trash.
Golden eyes ran across the piece,
studying it
every inches
and only felt disappointed.
How many years had it been?
But still, the same mistakes
the same lack of skill
still stayed
ruined something that should be his pride
or maybe he wasn't allowed to have one to begin with.
He ran fingers on it,
feeling the rough texture
too less water
tracing the wet spots
too much water
golden eyes stayed on the colors
they didn't blend like he hoped them to be.
Trash,
it was trash
and he was reminded of last afternoon
at the art class
standing at the exact same spot
doing the same that he did right now
noticing the same mistakes
much worse, because it had been an assignment
he had tried
every single fiber in himself was working
thinking
how to fix that up
assignment, that was an assignment
in his head, it should be something that would look good
he had liked the piece inside his head
but when his hand worked, they betrayed him
his friend and his enemy, at the same time
his hands.
It wasn't their fault, he reminded himself
if something,
someone,
should be blamed,
it was him.
Maybe he didn't practice enough
didn't learn enough.
An ordinary boy, very ordinary
didn't have anything good in him
average face
harsh attitude
average brain
no talents
only love in art
something that made him feel belong
art.
So no way he was gonna give up on it
the only place in this world where he belong
truly belong
was there
nowhere else.