gusaud

I remember loving a lot of things as a child. I spent over 6 years learning how to play the piano and although I really did enjoy playing it, I also hated it. I hated going to recitals and having others compare how I played with the students that played it better. The ones that have a natural talent in it. The ones that played like they were meant to be playing that piano. The ones that, no matter how hard you worked or practiced, you would probably never reach their level. But I still loved playing the piano for many years. I liked playing for my friends and classmates at school because in their eyes, I was that great pianist. I excelled in my music classes and I loved it.

I also used to love running as a kid. You know when the teacher makes you run laps? I loved it, we all did. I remember that I looked forward to racing against the boys and I’d always be in the top 3. It felt awesome running until my lungs felt like they were gonna burst and my cheeks were all red; it makes you feel alive. That lasted even a bit into junior high actually. Of course by then I was no longer beating the boys and girls never want to run laps - sweating doesn’t look good, right? I didn’t feel the joy from running anymore and totally got out of shape.

When I was in elementary I was actually part of a choir because I loved singing. Can you tell music was a big part of my life? We would perform in front of the school and sometimes we’d go to different places to perform in front of strangers. I loved performing as part of the choir because, unlike piano recitals, I didn’t have to be singled out and be judged and compared to my peers. I was just part of a group that loved doing what I also loved doing. That stopped when I realized I didn’t have the crazy range that some people are gifted with. The kind of voice that pulls you in and makes you feel every single emotion they are feeling when they sing their song to you.

Drawing used to be a hobby of mine. I had tons of books for drawing. I wanted to take drawing classes instead of being stuck in piano classes. Every time we had to do posters for class, I was ecstatic. My friends and classmates always asked me to do the letterings for their posters. I loved drawing as an outlet to express myself. When I went into junior high and took Art I quickly realized that I seriously have no talent for drawing LOL. Here I was drawing the equivalent of a stickman when compared to these masterpieces my classmates were producing, like it was nothing.

The last thing I really liked doing was writing. It was a different way to express my creativity. It made perfect sense as I love reading books and it gave me inspiration to write my own stories. I’d write stories for my friends to read, but many never made it to that point. As I started reading things others have written, I realized how mediocre my stuff sounded. I could never pick the right words to express myself, I could never make my words flow as naturally as theirs do, I could never evoke feelings out of my readers as powerfully as the way that theirs do. After that every time I started something I would obsessively go over it again and again, never once satisfied with what I’ve written.

I love things like art and writing for its ability to let people show their creativity and provide an outlet for people to express themselves. I love looking at designs for the same reason. It saddens me.. knowing that I feel like I lost something like that because I deemed myself inferior, and for some reason, not worthy enough to continue to pursue it even if it’s just for myself.