Keep falling

Chapter 1- Y/N

I've been awake for 3 days and 2 nights, rubbing my sore eyes that had started stinging from looking at the TV screen for too long but also the sleep deprivation. Trapped in my spacious studio apartment located in a nice area but it was nothing to boast about but it felt like home, filled with my favourite object's food, a bed, Wi-Fi, and my beloved art supplies.

I haven't moved from my current position in the corner of my lightly furnished living room, hoping that changing my position periodically every 4 hours hoping that I might get a brilliant idea for my new art piece that I need for the annual competition that is happening in 3 months, which I usually won, so I could show to my parents it wasn't a bad choice to leave to go to the city but to also pay rent for this studio apartment this is way too big for just me. Blinking again relieving the feeling of the previous stinging, I tilt my head down muttering ideas incidentally sounding like a crazy person which wouldn't be hard to be mistaken by from my dishevelled appearance, hoping that one of the ideas would inspire me but nothing.

I've been in a rut lately not feeling an ounce of inspiration flood my body leaving my senses cold, my limbs felt useless not being to do something I was once so proud and found so easy to do, the thought of painting bringing a bigger wave of depression to overcome me. 

The feeling of failure started to flood my thought pattern leaving me with even more inner turmoil, I had kept up the charade that I was a well-known artist, a socialite if you will, surrounded by friends and celebrities to help convince my family that it was worth it and so they would stop pressuring me to come back home to get a 'real job', but no it just me. Y/N an aspiring artist who hasn't made it big yet and has one friend in the entire world, Jennie.

Looking up, my hair tangled from the constant nervous finger combing I used to control my anxiety, I look from my current position to the corner of the room my eyes registering the flashing light amidst the darkness of the apartment showing me it was now night time.

My phone was located on the kitchen counter 10 steps away from me, I don't have enough energy or effort to get up or reach for it, but I know it must be her. I've been her best friend since high school never leaving my side and even encouraging my dream of becoming an artist when my own parents didn't. She probably wanted to check up on me, she still treats me like a little kid, only making me realise how much less of an adult I am compared to her. 

She was beautiful had everything, a job, a husband, a car, a house, her whole life was put together, I don't know what she saw from me or why she even thought to be friends with me, but I'm so thankful she could be there for me, I have to thank her some time, maybe invite her to that cafe down the street that sells the really good pineapple bread. I had come to realise how blank I felt staring out of the window seeing everybody's lives function well, while mine is stuck in time.

Raking my hand through my hair one more time, I decided to stretch my limbs out which was a bad choice my muscles freezing up on me giving me awful muscle cramps I rolled onto the side in a sign of defeat to my own body, massaging my calf while making tiny winching noises trying to get the blood flow back from my in-mobility for the last 2 hours, leaving 2 more hours until I change my placement again.  I felt my stomach rumble against the floor, The lack of food in my stomach had racked my body with another ache that was worse than the current muscle aches I'm experiencing, which forced me to double over again, as I hadn't eaten since yesterday morning I think, my beloved food was too far away for me to get and I've probably already eaten all the food in the house anyway, I felt an invisible tear roll down my cheek.

Uggghh, I've been struggling with my art career since I first moved to this city, bringing my depression to a whole new low. I had hoped that maybe a change in environment and some time away from my parents would bring me new hope or inspiration, but it only brings me more inner turmoil and the possibility of having to change my career path, but not I'm not going back.

I have to keep going, I have to take every opportunity I can get it doesn't hurt to do but it sure is hard, I have to try at least something, if I keep going like this I will surely one day die.

Lifting up from my comfortable place in the corner feeling my limbs aching in disdain, walking slowly in my sleep-deprived state approaching my easel I had bought with the money I had won from the last contest. I graced my hand over my brush set hoping for a tingle of something at least but nothing, I grunted in frustration not having enough energy to form any words. I closed my sleep-deprived eyes and poised my hand with the paintbrush leaning it against the canvas, waiting for something, anything. 

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