How I learned to draw

Nonfiction by | February 7, 2010

I had it with me since then. It was what kept me sane from all those cynic thoughts I couldn’t prevent. It was my intense fondness for drawing. I was too obsessed with it. I couldn’t stand not doing it even for just a short while. It seemed as if my childhood days revolved around my sketch book. Drawing was my passion, my shock absorber.

I used to be very languid back then, more than what I am now. I was so sensitive that I had to pin my ears back on what others might be saying and doing behind me. I became very conscious of my words and actions because I did not want people to criticize me. I was a silent detective, collecting even the little signs of spitefulness. I admit that I had those irrational suspicions. I just couldn’t avoid them.

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