WHEN I ARRIVED at the optional warm-up this morning, I was glad for once to be in the studio so early in the morning. On any other day, I'd rather choose to stay in the comforts of my bed than getting up in the morning to go to an optional warm-up session, continuously hitting the snooze button until the morning sun penetrated through my eyelids.
But today was different. These past few months were different. So many things had occurred in such a short time span, and my mind was already becoming wary, my head flooding with thoughts that mentally exhausted me before my day even started.
Recently it'd been getting pretty bad though. It became harder to focus in classes and concentrate on things in general.
But dance was one of the few things that cleared my head. It helped me escape and forget about what was going on in my life for a bit, giving me a short mental break.
Not only did it help my mental health, but it also helped my body physically. A few weeks ago, I skipped a few optional warm-ups and paid for it. By midday, my muscles were fatigued and continued to stay that way for the days following. It was absolute hell.
After dance, feeling tranquil and more energetic, I sauntered to the art building. Sitting in my usual seat, I resumed from where I left off previously, finishing up a few minor details that accentuated the completed painting.
Perched high up in a tree, a girl sat on a thick tree branch, both the girl and tree painted as black silhouettes. Variously colored butterflies surrounded her as she watched the sunset in the distance, a round, yellow flame that radiated red-orange light as it dipped behind the ocean's serene undulated surface. The sky was a variegated mix of pink, orange, and purple streaks, blending together beautifully.
Un Nouveau Départ is what I called it. Meaning a new start, the whole painting itself was a giant piece of symbolism about my life in a way. As new experiences and opportunities emerged around me, I thought about how my past didn't stifle my future choices but pushed me in the right direction.
While continuing to paint in more details, a swift movement caught my attention from the corner of my eye. Filling the seat next to mine a foot or two away, Milo greeted me with a smile, already looking at me as I glanced his way.
"You're here early," he remarked, a hint of amusement laced in his voice. I peered around the room and realized there were still many seats left unoccupied. There were a few people I knew who finished all of their projects though and didn't feel the need to come in until later on, having an hour or two of extra free time. I still had one last painting to finish and then I would be done and also have more time on my hands for other things.
"Hm, I guess so," was all I responded with as I swiveled back to face my canvas. After our short exchange, Milo and I kept quiet except for a short moment when he asked to borrow a color I was using. I continued my efforts to see what his painting was, but as usual, he refused to show me until it was completed.
After a few small strokes, I leaned back and examined my handy work, deciding that the painting was complete. I turned to Milo and asked, "Are you almost done?"
"Yeah, I finished like thirty minutes ago," He shrugged nonchalantly, a small smile tugging at his lips.
"What?" I breathed humorously. "Then why've you been sitting here all this time?"
YOU ARE READING
Three Years Later | ✓
Teen Fiction"He talks about you a lot, you know?" She said, her smirk clearly audible in the inflection of her voice, making me blush. "What does he say about me?" "Good things but nothing I ever doubted. Sometimes when I'm on the phone with him, he tells me...
