The aquarium date is still fresh in my mind. I cannot sleep. I can still see the image of Wendy's tear-filled face clearly. I place a hand to my heart. It still skips a beat whenever I think of her.
I'm glad I met her. Because of her, I realize I can feel emotions I never knew I had. She is someone that is able to bring color onto a blank canvas like me. She is someone who pulled me out of my boundaries.
Boundaries…
I get out of my bed and head towards my living room where my sketchbook is. I pick it up and head back into my room. I kneel down in front of my dresser to open the bottom drawer; it contains all the sketchbooks I've written and scribbled in throughout my life. I dive deep and got out the very first sketchbook I've written in.
I remember why I chose to write in a sketchbook and not in a journal. It was because I was only using it for sketches. Because drawing gave me so much comfort, I held onto it like a security blanket. When people had approached me for conversation, I had used the sketchbook as a quick solution. Soon, my agency quickly depended on it. The boundaries I had set for myself all relied upon the space between me and the sketchbook. It made it harder for me to leave my comfort zone, but I was fine with it. This was what I wanted.
The more I used my sketchbook for writing, the less I used it for actual drawing later in my life. I think it was around last year that I used sketchbooks for writing and not drawing. The last three sketchbooks I had reflected on it.
The people allowed within my boundaries were only two: Eura and Jay. They were the ones that I could speak to freely without the need of my sketchbook. Everyone else had the sketchbook treatment until Wendy showed up and illuminated my life in a way I never knew.
Eura's words come back to me. She is correct. Wendy is my light–the guiding star that helped me follow the correct path to my happiness. I would never expect it to be her; in all honesty, she'd be the last person I'd expect to fall for. The world works mysteriously. I don't regret falling in love, however.
There's an unexpected joy that comes from being with Wendy. I feel like I can talk with her about art for as long as I want and she listens; she could do the same and I'd listen. Her presence makes me feel calm, confident and excited for what the future will hold for us.
What would happen if this relationship doesn't work out as planned? I'm not too sure what will happen, but I know that I would anticipate the next relationship I would have. I shouldn't be too pessimistic or doubtful about whether or not this relationship will last. I shouldn't think about the possible other suitors that would come into my life. I just want to focus on the now. I want to concentrate on what I have right now with Wendy.
I think about her as soon as I close my current and final sketchbook. I wonder what she's doing now. I want to talk to her. I want to hear her voice. I take one last look at the sketchbook. It had been with me when I started a new chapter of my life. A new chapter of my life–a new dawn–is starting again. It's a chapter where I don't think I need this sketchbook anymore. I have someone I can talk to and I feel courageous enough to talk without it anymore.
It's a bit heart wrenching to part ways with something that has been with me for a while. Humans adapt and change. I had to do the same. The sketchbooks were a part of me adapting. Now that I've adapted and changed once again, I want to do it in a way that I do not need to be dependent on this sketchbook.
Thank you. It's because of you that I've learned to adapt. It's because of you that I've learned to change. I am unsure when I will need you again, but I know that we won't meet again.
I put the last sketchbook into the drawer, close it and stare at it for the last time. I hear my phone ringing from my lit living room. I stand up and leave my dark room. I wonder who's calling me. I hope it's Wendy.