Art has always been my passion. Not only do paintings and photographs look beautiful, but the way they were made also tells a story. Why did the artist choose these colors? What about this angle caught the photographer's eye? Why do the strokes look so angry, yet the object of the painting seems so blissful and happy? Why was this sunset photographed right before the sun touched the horizon line on the ocean, and why was it taken so far away from the shore? These thoughts are always flooding my mind, and I have yet to find any answers to them.

 As a self-proclaimed artist myself, I find the need to find out bordering on the edge of insanity. Everyone around me has always praised my work. My parents always smiled brightly and cheered me on, my older brothers always looked at me with pride. My friends always showed interest in my hobbies and seemed eager to know when my pieces were finished, and I earned high marks from all my instructors. Yet I can't help but feel unfulfilled in my work. My creations illicit positive reactions, but what does that matter if I am not happy with it?

 Looking through my recent sketches I can't help but feel frustrated. I'm consumed by art. All I ever think about is wanting to draw and paint, but as the days pass, I am filled more and more with a sense of emptiness. I feel incomplete without a brush or pencil in my hand, but I feel so sad once I do grab one. What is the point to this anymore? Lying in bed and unable to sleep, all these thoughts keep slamming into me like unrelenting waves. Not able to bear it any longer, I got up and started putting away all my supplies.

 I thought I would feel strange taking down my canvases and breaking down my easels, but I was shockingly indifferent. After taking those down, I filled the bottom of a box with my sketchbooks and pencils, then placed my paint and turpentine on top. After organizing all these things into the corner of my room I grabbed my aprons, palettes, and tossed them in the trash. Using the large tarp that was used to protect the floor, I covered all the art supplies in the corner until I could figure out what I wanted to do with them. Lying back down in bed, I closed my eyes and tried to get some sleep.

 "Avery. Avery. Avery! It's time to get up, your freshman orientation will start soon, you're going to be late!"

 Oh, that's right. I am supposed to start college today, and mom is trying to wake me up. "I'm not going, let me sleep."

 "Wh- what? What do you mean you're not going? I'm coming in!"

 Well, I suppose I can't blame her for being shocked. After busting my ass all through high school to get accepted into art school, I'm suddenly uninterested in going.

 "Mom, just hold on. I'm getting up, give me a second." I slid on a pair of shorts and a tank top, then threw my hair into a messy bun. "Okay, you can come in now!"

 Walking straight toward me with concern written all over her face, my mom put a hand to my forehead. "Avery, what is it? Do you not feel well? Is it your heat cycle? I can go get you inhibitors if you need them."

 Letting out a deep sigh, I put my hand on hers and lowered her arm back down to her side. "Mom, that's not it. I just… I don't want to go to college. Not right now. I was thinking about this a lot last night and… I just don't think I'm ready. I'm not sure if art is really what I want to do anymore."

 She listened as I spoke, and when I was done, she looked throughout my room. "Honey… What happened? Why did you put all your art supplies away? You're so talented, I thought this is what you wanted to do?"

 "I just feel so empty. My art brings other people joy, but what is the point if it doesn't bring me any in return?" I didn't realize I was crying until she brought her thumb up to wipe away my tears.

 "Avery, you know we will always love you and support you regardless of what you decide. This is your life after all. I am just confused. Ever since you could pick up a crayon you have been drawing. You spent all four years of high school aspiring to be a professional artist, what changed?"

 "I don't know when I started feeling this way, but I realized it last night. I don't feel anything anymore… When I make art, I am focused on what other people want to see. I'm not doing it for myself anymore. I feel like… I'm just existing to make other people smile at the expense of my own happiness. I just need time to think."

 "Avery, why don't you just go to orientation? Maybe you will feel differently after the tour and meet other people in your class, and if you still don't want to then you can change your major."

 "Mom… I just want to take a break from it all. I want to take a break from art, I want to take a break from my future. I feel like I don't even know myself anymore."

 Letting out a deep sigh, my mom wrapped me in her arms for what seemed to be an eternity. "Okay honey. Okay. Your dad and I always told you kids that you can take your time, find your own path, and be anything you want to be. That we would always be here for you, cheering you on regardless of what you decide. Just promise me… You won't become like Emette."

 Letting out a small laugh, I responded "I thought you said we could take our time and find our own path, mom?"

 "Avery, you know I love and respect your older brother. He is a handsome grown man, graduated top of his alma mater with a MBA, and even had multiple competitive job offers from fortune 500 companies. But…"

 "But he is a twenty-five-year-old dominant alpha who turned down all the job offers, broke up with his girlfriend, moved back home, and works part-time at a restaurant?"

 "You know that is not what I mean. I am just worried about him. He will find his own path in his own time, as I am sure you will too. But I also want my kids to experience life to it's fullest and see the world… Well, to move out and enjoy life to its fullest."

 "I know mom, I know. Thank you for always being there." Move out and enjoy life to its fullest, huh? More like you and dad want to take that vacation you haven't been able to stop talking about and want all your kids out of the house before you go.

 "Mom, we aren't little kids anymore. If you and dad want to go travel, Emette and I will be fine here at home. Plus, Omari and Micah live in the area too. All your kids are out of high school, you sacrificed all your time to being there for us. Dad's retiring soon and Omari will be taking over the company. Go enjoy your life too."

 "Oh Avery! How did I get blessed with such a cute and thoughtful son like you?! But don't worry about me. Your dad and I will go when the time is right, so just focus on yourself for now. Want me to help you put your supplies in storage?"

 "No, that's okay. I was planning on stopping by Amy's place and seeing if they are in need of any art supplies. If so, then I am going to just donate them to her. Will you be able to talk to dad for me if he gets home before me?"

 "Haaaaaaa, alright sweetie." She gave me a kiss on the cheek and made her way to the door. "Just let me know if you need anything." With that, she left my room.