Hoy solo en inglés
Today I was at class, I was pretty concentrated when suddenly I reminded many days of my past, when I used to draw or distract my mind with many other things at class, with other artificial beings created by my mind and sharing it with some of my friends. I loved to create, to write and draw the characters inside my mind, like a need to express and share awesome stories with others. I realized sadly, when more time passes, more I see I cannot do anything with it, even if there’s people who tells me I’m wasting my talent, I know I won’t be able to use my overflowing imagination for anything good in this life.
I loved to imagine every time I went on a trip that I was going to a far place while looking through the car’s window in silent, hoping to find different people, different awesome places,… I felt like don’t want the car to stop and go far away.
I stopped to draw and I rarely write stories as I used to do, when more I leave it aside, clumsier I become, losing my skills little by little…
When I was a child I used to have lots of imagination, since I have memory it was the only thing that made me not feel alone sometimes, or made me happy other times.
I wasted many papers to draw and improve so constantly because of my love for drawing, to learn by myself things that I wasn’t able to learn, or creating stories… I started telling tales by myself to my mother, and ended making stories that made people cry.
Drawing and writing made me feel free, you can do everything you want, you can create, and create, and anyone can’t tell you it’s not possible, since the world of fiction is so wide, as wide as realistic.
But in my insides I feel I was not made for this… then, why I did it for nearly 19 years of my life? I asked myself many times, what is the use of it? It will never be my job… and it’s stopping to be my hobby. I stopped to have a reason to keep it.
But it’s only a little part of a big meditation I had today.