rough sketch


Sometimes I can't help but wonder whatever happened to that girl who was hell-bent on 'pursuing her artistic pursuits.' The girl who had a hard time taking off her bohemian skirt and putting on a corporate suit. The girl who happily spent hours with her pencils and sketch books.

Although at times I think I know what happened to that girl. At some point, she realized that she had no choice but to be a woman. An adult. A mother. A partner. Hours were spent in those corporate suits, and whatever free time she had were spent on housework. Time spent with her pencils and sketch books were filled with guilt pangs - she should be working! - until she had given them up altogether. The pencils and the sketchbooks. Not the work. Because she was a woman with responsibilities.

And it was then that she started feeling miserable, reassessing her life, wondering where all the passion went. She felt empty. True, she was promoted at work, she made some minor improvement to her home, but the emptiness persisted. Until one day, she realized, she didn't care anymore. She worked because she had to. The corporate work must not suffer, but her resentment grew. The house felt neglected.

More than a year passed. But a couple of weeks ago, she unearthed her set of pencils, opened a new notebook, and started drawing.

It's time to reclaim that girl.

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