Willow Collins
March 27, 2015 12:07 AM
Expressing myself (Art Room) by Willow Collins
Over midterm, despite Willow's desire to stay at school, she'd been forced home. Forced into parties, having to pretend things were normal and happy and that her immediate family wasn't fully dysfunctional. Not something she really wanted to deal with. The Teppenpaw would have much preferred the quiet isolation of school when everyone else had gone home.She was tired and beaten down. Weary of it all. Willow wanted to be angry but there was no real deserving target for her anger and lashing out at someone who didn't deserve just made her feel bad in a different way. She'd tried to just not care anymore, but that made her feel like a bad person too and was too difficult to do anyway.
Not only that, but she'd had to go back to therapy too, group session and all. Also, a lot of those people had been at the same parties. Which made sense, being they were all from good pureblood families and lived in approximately the same region. Still, that added a weird layer to social events. On the one hand, it meant Willow knew there were others who felt things similar to what she did and there were people she knew. On the other, it just made things even more awkward and phony because they had to pretend and they all knew they were pretending and that the others were pretending. More so than people usually pretended.
How nice it would be to be like Portia, innocent of that knowledge. How much more fun things might be. No, instead Willow had to be burdened by the truth of how fake things were. It sucked. She despised how her chance to be happy and carefree had been stolen from her, but again, there was nobody to blame. Which was also frustrating really.
So, here she was, in the Art Room. Art, Willow felt, was a good place to pour out feelings. Put it all into your work. Anger, frustation, irritation, sadness. Autumn had done art too, but she'd painted, while the sixth year sculpted-and while, of course, her sister had wanted all her work to be flawless and perfect, she deliberately made hers all flawed. Willow had heard of an Asian concept-Japanese, she thought, and she'd forgotten precisely what it was called-where everything was flawed, and to celebrate that flaw as a beauty. Besides, the world was a rather ugly place and anything that appeared to be perfect wasn't real.
Anyway, even if Willow made something that was totally off, it was still more recognizable than anything Evan made.
She grabbed some clay and sat at one of the potter's wheels. The portraits always fell silent when she was around, given that once she'd been in an exceptionally rotten mood and threw a lump of clay at one when it tried to stick it's nose into her process. Evan was right, who needed to be told how to make art? It was an expression of her own feelings and emotions.
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Expressing myself (Art Room)
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