Why Do I Draw?

I don’t know why I draw.

I get so excited when I have an idea or an inspiration to draw something. But seriously, I have no I idea why I can do it or why I do it.

I don’t like to say that it comes naturally or that it’s a talent that I have. That would be conceited. And it wouldn’t be true because I remember practicing and getting comments on how bad it was. There’s always someone else more awesome, talented, and inspiring at drawing than me. But that’s another story.

I would say that it’s another way for me to communicate my point across. Like talking, yeah that’s it. Drawing is like talking for me because my vocabulary is limited. (Heck, I can’t even tell a proper joke!) My drawings do the talking for me.

Though I can’t tell you why I draw, I can however tell you this: I get a kick out of other people’s reaction when they see my drawings. Especially when they laugh at the jokes.

My friend saw one of my drawings and said, “Is there anything that you CAN’T do?”

Yeah, lots. Like cooking and cleaning, gardening, being a proper dog owner, being socially acceptable (I’m so weird sometimes), telling a funny joke, keeping fit, etc.

I told her all this because she had this look, like she wanted to idolize me or something. I’ve seen that look before on other faces. I don’t want that, I don’t want people to know I can draw and treat me different from before. It’s weird for me. She laughed, said “that’s true”. We’re okay, I’m still the goofy lurus bendul friend.

That look. It was like that in high school. It was fun for awhile, being known as someone who can draw. People mention your name and predict that you’ll be a great artist one day, but it loses its appeal fast. Up to a point where I can’t draw and I find that it’s no fun drawing anymore. It felt like a competition I had to win, it felt like I needed to prove myself to them. And being a teenager is hard. You feel everything. Every emotion and reaction is magnified. The slightest thoughtless comment is the equivalent of the end of the world. Shamefully, I admit, that I quit. I quit for a long, long time.

I’ve matured a bit since then. I still feel shy letting others see my work and I still brace myself for any comments. I can receive comments (both good and bad) better now. I know there’s always someone better than me out there, but I can be one of them one day.