“Empty spaces fill me up with holes”
~Incomplete by Backstreet Boys
I clicked on “My Pictures”. This folder is empty.
I clicked on “My Music”. This folder is empty.
I clicked on “My Documents”. This folder is empty.
I clicked on “My Downloads”. This folder is empty.
I clicked on “My Desktop”. This folder is empty.
Suddenly, I felt like crying. I don’t want my folders to be empty! Why are they empty?!
And I wasn’t talking about my computer folders. I was thinking about my life folders. The ones that feel so empty and alone.
Do you know how long it took before I filled the My Friends folder? Too long. Then they were gone in a split second. And the search would continue again. Why can’t I seem to fill the friends folder? Why do I always seem to be the last one, alone?
How quickly they would leave. And I’d have to close the folder and resist the urge to put it in the trash. Because they weren’t my friends anymore (were they ever?) and they weren’t coming back.
What’s the point of having an empty folder?
I’m stuck in an artist’s block. I haven’t been able to draw since last year. And my music seems to be running dry also. Art is a part of me, it’s my sanity and my blood. I taught myself how to draw since I was very little. I couldn’t afford to take lessons, and the only instruction I had was at 12 years old when a local artist set up free classes in the community art gallery for the youth in the area.
When I went to college, I wanted to minor in art, but art doesn’t make money. I took one painting class, and painted 5 canvasses, 2 of which that I hang on the walls of my home. The rest are as foreign to me as eating spiders.
I would buy drawing books with hardcover binding in all sorts of sizes. I’d tuck them in my backpack and take them to my economics classes where my doodles would become art on a page. I could always remember the knowledge from the classes where I’d draw, almost word for word. I later learned this was a kinetic learning tactic, where keeping the hands busy helps the mind understand the lesson better.
I filled over 5 books, and innumerable sheets of paper, margins of notebooks. The drawings would just spill from my pen.
I don’t know how I did it. I seem to have forgotten it. I’ve forgotten how and it’s like loosing my right hand.
I’d draw when I was sad, I’d draw when I was angry. I’d channel that hurt and anger and pain and make amazing drawings that, to my eyes, seemed almost magical. How did I do that?
How DID I do that? I’ve forgotten, and it’s like loosing my sight.
Now, I pick up my pencil and…nothing. Not a spark of inspiration, not a flash of vision. Nothing.
I’m wandering in darkness and can’t seem to find my way home.
Why are all my folders so empty?
And every day, I go home from work to no one. No cuddles, no hugs, just an empty room. Another empty folder.
Maybe I’m just depressed after such a bad time, maybe my sunshine will return and all will be bright in the world. Maybe my art will return, and music will pour from my fingers like water cupped in my hands.
Or…. maybe I am destined to forever be a-
This folder is empty.
FYI, my computer is fine, I’m just transferring all my files to another user in the same machine. The old user seems to be corrupted.