Many of us were taught to put ourselves last in every situation, so to make art a priority can feel incredibly selfish. First off, this way of thinking aligns itself with believing that art is self-indulgent instead of important. But it also places your art last on your list of priorities. You need to become clear with who you are. You call yourself a mother, a father, an employee, a pet owner, a woman, a man…. You are also AN ARTIST. To be an artist, your life must include your art. This is a non-negotiable. ~ Reclaim Your Creative Soul ~
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“Oh, so you’re one of those.” “One of what?” His eyes crinkle at the corners, his mouth slightly turns up. “A Bucket Lister.” “Excuse me?” “You know what I’m talking about. You’re one of those people who have a list of things to do before you die, except your list includes foods you never got to eat on the other side.” “I’ll have you know that I have no such list,” I say, denying my teenage goals. He thinks he’s got me pegged, but he doesn’t even know me. “I ate, slept, and worked every day on repeat until they came to take me away.” “I bet you went skydiving.” I stand up, almost knocking over my half full glass of soda. I know I’m overreacting, but I can’t help it. I’m mortified because all my reactions around him are wrong, and I’m flustered because I don’t know what to make of him. I desperately want to start over. Instead I say, “You don’t even know my name, and you’re pretending like you know everything about me. You don’t know anything.” He looks at me for a moment, and I’m frozen under his gaze. He still appears tired, but his face relaxes with amusement. “I know your name is Noelle, and my name is Ryder,” he says, putting his hand out. I fight the urge to reach for his hand, knowing I’ll give myself away if I do. To curb my impulses, I pick up my tray, making my hands unavailable. This isn’t lost on him, and I can see the laugh deepen in his expression. “I know you have 100 days from today, according to the number on the back of your neck, just like me. I know you sleep a few cots away from me and are one of the only people on our floor without a walker. I know your eyes are blue because they’re unmistakable, even from across the room. I know you’re much too young to have hair that silver, but it’s stunning on you. I know you’re scared to be here because it means it’s over. And I know you chew the inside of your cheek when you’re nervous, or someone gets too close, or you find someone attractive, or all three.” I unclench my teeth, letting my cheek go as he grins over his nearly untouched salad. “It’s nice to meet you, Noelle.” Numbered.
A dystopian romance adventure.
Free on Kindle Unlimited.
bit.ly/NumberedKindle
