Her little hands held the paint brush in the most admirable attire and produced impeccable pieces of art on her carefully stretched canvas. She’d let her emotions flow and intricately designed all her sketches and paintings. Each piece of art encompassed in itself magic and beauty, the beauty that rendered one mesmerized and spellbound. She had kept all her creations in her closet. No one knew about them. Alas! No one ever got to know about them. No one ever could appreciate them, and one day all her creations got buried into the aisle of mortal and dust. They were merely paintings, she made out of sheer pleasure. What if no one could comprehend them? And so she kept them to herself and they eventually got buried.
She could whirl her waist like no one else. Move in the most graceful style from one end to the other. Bend her body, almost instantaneously, to whatever music could be playing. But she never got on the stage. She feared that she might not get the acceptance she deserved. The audience might not appreciate her or may leave the auditorium before she had finished her part.
Those pages were straight from the heart, adroitly embraced with metaphorical instances, and they painted an image in your head, which remained there for quite some time. All emotions and feelings, so dexterously, weaved on one single page. But she never went on the stage to read out them to the world. She got ‘butterflies in her stomach’, not out of excitement, but nervousness. She feared she might fumble or stammer and might be ridiculed at.
She gets into the best college. Her parents are proud of her. All set for her first day in college and yet she is very anxious. What is she going to wear? Should she get a hair cut for college? She is pretty comfortable with her physical appearance. But even still, she is anxious. She checks herself in the mirror every now and then because she is wary of scrutinizing eyes of her best friends, classmates, and acquaintances or may be potential crushes.
The world, probably, expects us to be someone we are not and thus the ghost of acceptance straddles our thoughts and we try to fuse in, we try to be someone we are not.