A piece of my heart.

Everyday I am caught in the mess of emotions. In the crowd of feelings. All of which are evoked by someone other than myself. All of which are a reaction not to the self. My brain and my heart, being controlled by someone else. In this moment of reflection I realise how vulnerable and how weak each of us is today. Owing most of our basic emotive functions to a third party. Sometimes even going to the extent of faking these very emotions to keep other judging minds satisfied. Day in and day out this seemingly fabricated routine becomes a part of us and we lose our independence. We are slaved forever. We cannot think for ourselves. We cannot feel detached. We are always holding onto something or someone for support and approval of something which is rightfully ours.

That is why maybe, I am happiest when I create art. Because that is one of the few things I am doing for myself. Uninhibited and free, I am not thoughtful of what reactions it will evoke or how it will affect anyone else. It is my art, my part. It is a free expression of what I feel and think and want to depict. Onlookers may choose to appreciate or ignore. Praises are welcome and criticism is too. But nothing can degrade the piece that I have created. Because as I said, there is a price of my heart in the piece of my art.