Sometimes I ask myself, “Will I ever run as fast as my childhood friends had commented on my superb skill before?” or “Will I ever be able to capture photographs again?”
Yesterday, our professor in Humanities II (Art, Man, and Society) asked us to show an example of what bad art is according to our individual aesthetic taste. My turn to stand up and show an artwork to the class arrived, and when I stood in front of that cold classroom I explained to them what, for me, an art is.
“I regard a photo as an art,” I said, “And I think this art, is not only bad art, but the worst I had seen in my entire life.”
I continued, “I think this is somehow bad because the photographer focused more on the effects rather than the meaning. For me, for a thing to be considered art, it should create a deep meaning into the eyes of the observer.”
The professor was baffled. “Who took the photo then?”
“Me. I was once a photographer.” my shameful reply.
The class became noisy, saying touching words like “Wow! You are a great photographer!” “Awesome!” “The photo is cute!”
“You have photography skills. When did you stop?” the professor asked.
“After heartbreak.” I ended.
I asked myself again when I finally sat on the place. “Will I ever run as fast as my childhood friends had commented on my superb skill before?” or “Will I ever be able to capture photographs again?” Maybe yes to photography, maybe no to running. I promised the people closest to me that I will capture photos when I fall in love again. But I won’t anymore be into running, since it is now impossible, and my doctors forbade me from doing so.
Sometimes I thought that life will never be as colorful as it once seemed solely because probably one day, I won’t anymore be able to do the things that are equated to my happiness or simply complete my day. I felt that I lost my own identity and my dreams were like bubbles bursting into oblivion. But later on, after that class and when I was traveling back home, I realized that there are other things that we are capable of doing other than those that are used to govern our world, and such discovery will happen along with the long process of the healing of deep wounds.
And finally I realized that not all scars will remind us of the pain we suffered before, but a friendly reminder that we will undergo much more series of hardships and pain, for this reminder is an assurance that you are breathing and alive and that you are still capable of enduring and carrying-on until our own, personal journeys come to an end.
So here I am, blogging, and my discovered prowess is writing. My parents also witnessed that I can cook great tasting food. I excelled more in academics. And now, I have settled into my new happiness and keep living as simple as possible.