I always had a big imagination.
Ever since I was a child, I would live in my imaginary world. It was filled with magic, dragons, and vibrant colours.
I never had a dull moment. Every day was a new adventure waiting to happen.
I lived so many different lives, only by inventing stories and unique characters did I begin seeing all of life's depth.
Being a shy kid, I would prefer to be by myself with a blank page and coloured pencils than to watch tv or play with friends. My favorite pencil always was the black. Not one drawing was "black-less".
When I was about 6 or 7 years of age, I was sitting with a mean girl on the school bus, I'm sure she sat with me only to be mean... She said she was my friend, and that we could make a "best-friend" charm using my crayons. I had my pencil case in my hands -probably because I was always carrying it around with me- and, being a sweet innocent girl, I let her open my case. The older girl took my favourite, actually, my only black pencil
and she broke it.
My heart fell apart.
I know it sounds over-dramatic, but I was living in the country, far from any store where my mom could buy more crayons... I couldn't draw as I pleased anymore, I couldn't create from my happy place. I was so sad. I cried when I got home.
I'm pretty sure that someone in my class -in the days that came after that- gave me a black pencil to replace the one that mean person broke.
As you can see, I'll never forget it! She took aways something so simple, yet so important for me. Maybe her intensions weren't bad, but it was literally the only time she spoke to me, and it was also the last.
So, anyway, this was a short story I wanted to share. I think many artists have a similar story about a favourite pencil or artistic object/tool.
I hadn't had an incident like that since. Yay!
Now that I colour digitally (most of the time), I don't really have any material issues :P
Thanks for reading!