A “no” is always a “no”.
I don’t think it matters if you are 18, 30 or 52; if it’s your first or the last of a long line of “no’s”.
The first thing was looking for a validation and I found only smashed ideals. Then, the smaller part of me, shrunk to almost nothing and tried to find a justification to wear on my face on Monday morning. That right look that says it all: I have at least tried, I still believe in me, it’s only a piece of work, only wood, it’s just the first open call, it’s only fucking art, not life or death!
And then, everything just dissolved. I was left with two pieces of wood, painted black, with writings.
What if no one, E V E R, is going to like them? What’s if this endeavour is just simply wrong?
It doesn’t matter if people said it was ok, if tutors said it was ok, if boyfriend said it was ok.
I really, really, REALLY, wanted to tick that box of being accepted.
So, I’ve applied to two more places.
I am not giving up, because no matter what: I do believe in what I create.