Boring Wednesdays

I woke up on Wednesday morning feeling off, like something wasn’t right. I dragged myself to the breakfast table but couldn’t shake the feeling. It was like I was in someone else’s body. I munched on bread and jam and tried to ignore the feeling, but it stayed with me as I walked to school.

Once I got to school, I remembered why Wednesdays suck. We have Chemistry and Sinhala back to back, two of the most boring subjects ever. Seriously, who wants to learn about atoms and compounds when you could be reading, painting or drawing? The teachers don’t seem to get it. They made the schedule for themselves, not for us. I’m curious if Mr Chapman knows how much we hate Wednesdays.

Sitting in class, I couldn’t help but daydream about the perfect schedule. It would have a whole block for art and another for math. But that’s just wishful thinking. I love art, but it’s not a subject they teach in the science faculty where I study. So I have to do my art projects on the sly, usually when bored at the boarding house. It’s not fair.

But I’m serious about my art. I have a whole set of watercolours, acrylics, brushes, and a pad of white paper. Away from school, I was super excited to work on a sketch I had finished with my 2B pencil last week. Then disaster struck, and my artwork got ruined.

As I was painting, a kind of film formed over the top of my bluish-green and white paints. I tried to brush it away with water, but the colours started to bleed and dissolve. It was like the paints trapped underneath were trying to escape. My heart sank, and I felt gloomy.

Until last week, I had been working on a painting of the boarding house with its white walls, blue glass windows, and the coconut trees next to it. I had painstakingly painted the different colours of the surrounding garden. But now, it all seemed fake. It wasn’t anything real or meaningful. Then I chose to paint the De La Salle statue because it looked great, but what was the point?

Sitting there staring at my ruined painting, someone asked me what I was doing.

“Are you painting today?” they asked.

“Yeah,” I replied, feeling embarrassed.

“What are you painting?” they asked.

“Not really; I am trying to fix my drawing,” I said.

“Huh, show it to me when you finish.”

“Sure,” I muttered, feeling defeated.

I returned to my desk, trying not to spill water or attract more attention. I took out my sketch and started painting, trying to salvage what I could. It was going okay until I messed up again. This time, I accidentally painted over the statue. I groaned in frustration, feeling like a failure.

I put down my brush and sighed. It was just one of those days.

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The image belongs to Behance Adobe