“It’s very muddled,” Mr. Thompson said. “Where are you going with this? Where are you taking me? What is your end goal?”
The questions went in one ear and almost out the other before I caught them.
“Mr. Thompson! Michael broke the easel again!” Taylor called across the room.
Before I could even get started on beginning to explain my senior art project, Mr. Thompson turned and walked away. I didn’t know if I should be relieved or not. I knew where my art was headed, but wasn’t sure if I could explain it. Not in a way that Mr. Thompson would understand.
But since he was the one who was going to decide if I was going to graduate or not, I should probably find a way to explain my art. It was muddled, I knew it was. But my paintings reflected how I felt. I was confused, but I also knew what I was doing and where I was going. I just couldn’t put my feelings into words, I only knew how to put my feelings into art.
As I contemplated my next piece, I looked at my watch. I only had a little less than twenty for house to my make my final push so I could graduate. I knew I had enough money in my bank account to make it happen, but my problem was time. I had only a little time left to prove my worth, graduate college, and disappear from my life completely.