Growing up, my life feels like that blank canvas, with those who love me acting like the easel holding me up, and me as the artist. The canvas can present limitless opportunities to paint my life how I want, or an endless sea of white with nothing extraordinary or special. What if I use sharpie to fill it in and make a permanent mistake? What if I try to paint over it, but the sharpie still shows like a never fading scar? What if I paint myself a picture, but decide I hate it when it's done? The artist is almost always most critical of his/her work, just like I am most critical of myself.
What if the easel snaps and seizes to support me? Will I be strong enough to hold my canvas up? Or do we all need a strong easel to lean on? Part of life is deciding who to trust and which of my "friends" are trying to crack my easel or ruin my picture.
The hardest part at this stage of my life is deciding how to start painting and what I want to paint. Perhaps I started painting my life a long time ago and I just don't know it yet. Maybe life is just a Paint-By-Numbers and God decides when to present us with each number for us to fill in how we choose.
Life doesn't simply give a second canvas, everyone gets one and we're all expected to make it beautiful despite the mistakes. Perhaps we will never be truly satisfied and the real challenge is to keep painting and learn from the errors along the way. Maybe the real strength is in the artist who doesn't need an easel, canvas or paintbrushes; the only thing an artist needs is creativity to achieve endless possibilities.
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