The Origins Of Arte

You know ironically the hardest thing about growing up for me? 

It was recognising, I would never be "that girl" ...

Recognising and accepting that there is nothing remarkable about me aside from the fact that I'm a smart ass, who can occasionally wield a pen or pencil with surgical precision and renaissance-like finesse, I was utterly uninteresting. 

So, I got blue hair. It seemed like a brilliant idea, no one can forget you if you have blue hair right? I mean, heck, I'm the girl who got her teeth knocked out, never was and never would be pretty, skin was ruined and NO ONE would love me. Blue hair was definitely a step up. 

Being black didn't help a bit, because in the West Indies, if you're not perfect, and you're black, ya better be able to sing, or master quantum fucking physics, because NO ONE will take you seriously otherwise. 

So I got blue hair. 

Funny enough, people did pay me attention after that, well aside from telling me how much a smart ass I was, people began to check enough to like or dislike me, not just over look me. 

How can people overlook me you wonder? 

I'm six feet tall, and not exactly quiet, in any way, my personality is loud, in that bubbly, brawling kind of way, when I'm quiet, it's very uncomfortable to people accustomed to me, yet, people overlooked me. I was too ... not enough. 

I had fleeting interests in music, but i can't sing for shit, and failed my music exam at age 13, after playing musical instruments since I was 4 years old believe it or not, I panicked in the exam, that was the end of that.

I draw, well more like I hold a pencil and something fascinating happens when I breathe, because half the time, I have no idea where that came from, or where it was going. To focus on it takes every ounce of energy within me, so illustrating portraits and landscapes in front of me, while I can do it, that is a labor of excruciating consequence to myself physically. 

However, drawing really isn't that special, drawings don't stay with your mind, you don't feel sad and remember a drawing, you don't feel angry and remember a drawing, but you feel these emotions and remember a song. 

For that kind of emotional attention from people I began writing, (don't ask, I was writing complex poetry almost as long as I was drawing, I knew what Horatian Odes were, I knew what Irregular Odes were, fuck it, I knew what the hell a Triolet was at age 10 but I abhor order, so I never stuck to the rules of poetry), yet, writing was not satisfying that monster within me. 

So... I got blue hair.