My secret language

The battle is not over. But in my heart, its done.

I couldn't bring myself to face it.

I love art all my life 

ever since young

But its so hard. 

So I practiced hard. Starting from young. 

I don't know about talents. I only know a journey full of hardships.

From food shapes to drawings and paintings, my mum started my passion for art.

In primary school, I thought I was rather creative. 

I loved playing with colours even though I don't really understand how to use them. 

Feelings shaped through pencils lines

Words expressed through the shading on paper

My unique form of expression. An art form that belonged solely to me.

My own secret language. 

All the best drawings were displayed on the classroom windows

Staring at it enviously, I wanted mine to be there

If it could, I would be so happy

I tried hard. 

Putting my emotions into tiny curls of markers

over and over again

Alas, my marker art went up the window

I was so proud

Unable to conceal, I wanted to share with someone

Only when I look around

I understand 

It was an achievement

but with no one to share

it was such a lonely achievement

Just like my drawing up there

A lone house on top of a hill

I waited on top of the hill for someone to come along

It was lonely up there

and it showed in my art

All the bright colours I used

hoping someone would like

hoping someone would come along

hoping someone would appreciate it

I was waiting...

I don't know what being talented mean. 

All my life was plain hard work. If others output 100%, I had to output 200%.

I keep trying my best every single time. Every single day.

Yet, its tiring to keep up this pace and stamina all the time...

I had to keep pushing myself. 

But I end up running. All the time. 

When its too hard. When I can't take it anymore.

Everytime I just want to give up, something pulls me up again.

Hope...

Like a little fool. I kept hoping.

Art is all about the talented plus a lot of hard work.

But the most important thing, is like someone realises about your art..

A rock would stay a rock forever until someone realise its a diamond...

Someone who could see it. 

Someone who can understand your secret language. 

Just like love. Someone who could feel it.

But I can't draw now

I lost my secret language somewhere

this world is so mixed up

I lost it somewhere

eyes staring at me 

demanding,scolding,crying

I am lost. My art is lost.

I lost an important part of me

and I am trying to find it back...