The Truth of What Expressive Art Brings to Love

I actually thought of this while I was watching "Rules of Attraction" and I was supposed to be studying for finals and my mom gave me about 2 hours writing time, I started writing as soon as I got home...let me know what you think!

I never knew what life was like until I have actually experienced it for myself. I never knew what people really acted like until I've seen them on campus. Everyone knew their friends, their enemies. But no one knew who I was. I was the odd girl on campus now, and who was I to say that I didn't belong?

That was other people's jobs, not my specifically. I already knew that I didn't belong. I was the girl with the short brown hair, wearing the plaid hat on her head, black leather boots with plaid pants on my legs. I wore all of this stuff with a shirt that fit nicely around the top-half portion of my body. I wouldn't care about what other collage kids wore of what they thought of my outfit choice.

Most days after classes, I would sit under a big oak tree that was growing on the north side of the campus entrance. I would always put my bag down, take out my art and start a new fresh page in which I created from memory. When I was under that oak tree, I felt like myself and I didn't notice anyone around me, nor did they notice me in return. My pencil glided smoothly across the fresh piece of blank art paper in my sketchbook, I felt like I could finally accept myself for who I was and not as who I thought I was all along. Since I had a reasonable amount of free time on my hands, I created as mcuh art as I could. The oak tree was my main creating spot, but I also drew at night in my dorm if I couldn't sleep well.

Half the time, I hadn't a clue of what I was drawing, but the ending turned out as perfect as I thought it would. I would sometimes have a good idea in my head of what to draw, but later when I drew it, it would turn out to be something completely different. But it was with me, I had so much time on my hands to just hang out in the library, look at some art books that were on display, sometimes I would even walk down to the nearest art gallery.

Usually, I sat by myself at the oak tree, but as I approached the old oak today, I noticed someone already sitting where I normally sat.

"Um, hi there," I said awkwardly as I approached the tree and stood in front of the sitting person. The figure's head looked up with his gorgeous brown eyes and dusty brownish hair, he smiled at me.

"oh, hello. I'm Steven and I greatly apalogize if I'm taking up all the room," he said and removed his books and things from beside him and patted the ground as a gesture for me to sit down. I set my things down and took a seat.

"It's fine. I ususally draw under this tree, so I didn't really expect anyone else to be here," I shuddered and ran my fingers through my short hair and replaced my plaid cap upon my head. He nodded and smiled.

"understandable. So you like to draw, huh?" He tried to steal a peek at the drawing book that was located in my lap, but I quickly closed it and glanced at him.

"I'm Daren Ruso, in case you were wondering," I added shortly after some silence. "I love to draw, actually. Only becuase it feels as if no one notices me and that I don't need to worry about other people," I replied.

"Ah, that's good," He glanced at his book which was in his lap. This was strange: it seemed to me as if Steven completely understood me, but how? I haven't told him anything really about me, nothing personal that is. I had to admit that Steven was cute and I hadn't want to let him go. I didn't know what to do, what I truly wanted or admired.

"I'm trying to major in art as a career," I replied. Steven glanced at me and then down at my sketchbook. I passed it to him and he started slowly flipping through some of the dark shading, lines and colorful drawing that had set me free of my lonliness.

"You're quite the artist, aren't you?" Steven chuckled, I looked away.

"I guess you could say that," I muttered under my breath.

"I really like these and think you are on the road to a good and creative career. You must have a lot of time on your hands to create such pieces," Steven flipped back through the pages and his eyes skimmed the pages.

"Yes, I do. Helps me express myself in a different way to the world to which I ignore. So people see me differently too," I added while I was looking through my bag to find my colored pencils.

"I like that," he passed my sketchbook back.

"Hey," he added, "I could help you out sometime, if you'd like. And I was wondering about the last drawing I saw, the one that hadn't been finished yet," Steven motioned to the stketchbook, I looked down.

"oh, this one?" I opened the sketchbook to the last picture and looked at him, he nodded.

"This one is what I called "Phantom Earth" because it makes you feel as if you landed in this different world and it sets you free to think everything through. I haven't added any colors yet," I traced the drawing with my finger to show him the many different lines that I had draw freeliy without thinking.

"Looks good and very expressive," Steven commented. I smiled greathly at him.

I admired Steven's company from day to day. We would talk and eat and he would comment on my new art pieces that I drew in my free time. I'm glad that he accepted and liked my art. I had soon started to put my art in the school gallery and sent a couple to the local gallery downtown, which was only a couple of blocks off campus. Steven soon came to like me and asked me out. We visited the gallery and sat beneath the oak tree. The oak tree was our sanctuary.

For now and forever we would stay under the feeling of being and staying safe.

 

Reviews

[CMBH]

The story was amazing, I was hooked from the beginning. The only criticism that I could provide would be to elaborate more on the details and maybe expand the story because the ending was abrupt and fast. Good measure in the story.

[Georgia Gypsy]

This is very good. I really think you could expand it, the end is sort of abrupt. Left me hanging and wondering what happened next?
Great Job!
Keep writing!
(Also,,,work on more descriptions. Sight, sounds, smell. Tickle the readers senses. I have trouble with this part of writing as well, it is hard to take the time to convey that to the reader. But it is essential to pull them into the story, to make them feel like they are there. One of my writer friends told me to take a picture of each scene in my head then step by step put it into words, it has been helpful but takes time to do.)

[Randal Bright]

This is beautiful! This shows one of those moments in life... when you meet someone who can make a difference in your life, just by sheer chance. This is a beautiful piece of writing here, and well, this shows the moments in life that are real.