"All that matters in love is love."
ā Nyxor
Like every other day, I ripped off the piece of art I had painted, violently, and threw it into a bin. Another rejection. Would the line ever break?
A couple of days ago, with all joy and enthusiasm, I had submitted my art at a gallery for exhibition, but, well, it didn't go as planned.
__________
"Mr. Nyxor, your work is a very nice one for a starter." The manager had begun.
A starter? I had thought.
I've been an artist for years, and the people who had seen my art, loved it, and had persuaded me to put it up for an exhibition. The reason I was seated before a kid, probably in her 20s and being referred to as a beginner. Yet, I remained calm.
Treading on eggshells, they say.
"But,"
Now, there's a but. Great.
"Our standards are on a pedestal," She continued, adjusting the temple of her glasses, "And, we select the works of our artists based on popular demands, likewise essence."
I remained silent, a contrast to the turmoil going on in my head. Somehow, I knew where she was headed. I've been there, in the same situation, a couple of times, to know. But, I wanted to hope. I wanted to believe it's just me. And, my anxiety.
"Howeverā"
"Can you please, just cut the chase?" I cut her off. I'm a grown man, and there's absolutely no reason for her to beat around. I could handle rejection, or so I believed.
She cleared her throat, and dropped the paper she's been fiddling with since I arrived- looks like she's got her own share of problems- and folded her arms on the table, while her eyes darted around.
"Your art lacks life, and we need an art with one. Arts that speak. Arts that move people's hearts." She said in almost a rush.
"So?"
"Your art has been rejected, Mr Nyxor. We apologize."
Even though I knew it was coming, the weight of the words still dropped on me like a heavy stone, and I felt myself gathering my sorrow, and the bitter taste through my lungs and down into the pit of my stomach.
"Mr. Nyxor?"
Snap! I was back into reality, and out of my despair.
"Yes. . . Yes, it's alright. Thank you for having me. And, you don't need to apologize. It's very fine." I said, giving the young lady a smile I thought was too big for the situation.
"You can come back next time. We'll always have you."
That was the last thing I heard till I got back to my studio apartment. It was like the world became quiet, and weighty, even my art which I carried all the way down had seemed unusually heavy.
_________
Maybe, it's time to stop trying. Perhaps, being an artist was not it for me.
I sighed. A deep, weary sigh.
Then, I donned on my shirt after draping a cloth over the blank paper on my boardā maybe foreverā and went out to grab a beer, or two. Maybe more. Depends on how badly bruised I was on the inside. Somedays I lost count.
The bar was filled again, jammed with lots of people whiling away their sorrows, some enjoying the celebrations of their success, and likely the other parts were just numb onesā like me.
Well, I've always believed that, regardless of my circumstances, I was not alone.
I picked a seat in front of the bar and ordered my usual. Whiskey. Sometimes, Hennessy.
While I took my sip, I turned around to watch the bubbling crowd. They looked happy, but were they, really? But, who was I to judge? I was noā
Pause.
My hand which was about to reach my mouth stopped mid-way as my gaze stopped on a particular petite figure, dressed in a short black gown, dancing slowly, and wriggling her waist to the blues music buzzing throughout the bar.
Her black hair swung around under the light, and I could argue it looked like a wavy ocean. But, just a black one.
Then, she turned. And, my whole world changed. My heart stopped beating, but on the contrary my stomach began to churn. Or was it a butterfly tingle?
I swallowed hard, and tried to drop my glass on the counter, but I missed. The glass shattered loudly on the floor, catching a few people's attention in the bar. Hers also.
Her emerald eyes locked with mine for a split second, and I got lost in them. Her gaze was piercing, yet so soft. Like an irony.
She withdrew her gaze, throwing me a short smile, before returning to her dancing.
However, the little to no smile shifted something within me. It was as though she had seen through me.
I rose up quickly, apologized to the angry waiter, dropped some cash, and some extra large tip, and dashed out of the bar.
I tried to tame my raging breath immediately I got outside, doubling over and performing a fast respiration process. It was as though my breath was caught in my throat, and I was being deprived of a chance to live.
"Need some water?" A calm, smooth voice suddenly breathed behind me.
I froze. I had a feeling who it was. The realization caused my heart to begin beating almost wildly against my chest as I turned to face the intruder.
And, there she was. Her piercing emerald eyes staring up at me. "Hello? Back to earth!" She called again, and I finally snapped out of my illusion.
"Who are you?"
Her brows furrowed, and I quickly retracted my words. "Are you a goddess?" Well, the retraction only got worse.
"Um, no, no. I meanā"
"Of course, I am." She quipped, while giving me the most beautiful and biggest smile I've ever seen in my entire 35 years, "Well, I think you should take the water now. My hands are screaming."
"Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry," I took the water from her and continued, "If I may askā"
"Charles!" She suddenly shouted, her face lightening up, so much it was almost illuminating the dark knight.
"What?"