You have allowed me to express myself creatively, to be excited about something that’s been meaningful to me all my life. I’ve spent a lot of time contemplating whether or not I was passionate about you anymore. I invested a lot of time in you as a child. Everyone saw the joy and happiness you brought to me. You were my escape when I was feeling bad about school or unhappy at home. I felt special when you were recognized by others. 

I enjoyed the sensation I felt when your colors hit the blank pages. I enjoyed gliding the tip of a pencil against my index finger, knowing how sharp the pencil was before it becomes dull when it grazes the canvas that is you. Every time I opened my sketch book, feeling the texture, tracing the drawings with my fingers, enthralled me with you. 

But then one day, I wasn’t as excited about you anymore. You became an afterthought, a lost hobby, an awkward old friend who I hadn’t seen in years. The more I forgot you, the more I stopped enjoying what I loved to do. I was uninspired, deeply unhappy with myself. You felt mundane and mediocre to me. I felt like you weren’t good enough because I never polished you, or invested the time you deserved, the time I deserved. 

I saved parts of you over the years, as an old memory of a happy time in my life. Although I was just a kid, I had never felt so deeply connected to something. I was so enamored with the idea of becoming an artist one day. 

Many years have passed. I’ve thought long and hard about what you have meant to me. Thank you for always waiting for me to find that eagerness and enchantment again.  

With this overwhelming sense of gratitude to you that I held for years, I decided to participate in a school art project that reawakened the child in me. That child was anxious and eager to express her artistic potential once again. I decided to invest hours and days and weeks into creating you, something I would be artistically proud of. I hadn’t been so pleased with myself in a long time.

I have to admit, at first, I was apprehensive. I had thoughts of self-doubt. I spent some time listening to those negative voices inside my head that said I wasn’t good enough. At the beginning, I stayed within the confines of your pages. Then, there was a mental shift that happened. I began painting openly and freely, alternating between painted images, clippings, and found items. I saw the beauty in you, in the way certain images were depicted. I found myself rearranging those images. The pieces began to feel personal. You started to move, to come alive, breaking the mental barrier that made me question my abilities. I felt the sense of courage I had been longing for. I felt I was, finally, no longer the artist who felt uninspired for such a long time. 

You have artistically encouraged me to create, to imagine, to inspire others to do what they love. I have broken away from that inner voice that doubts my abilities and my creative intuition. Art matters. Yours can, too.