Five days early
I suck at light painting.
We established this fact one hot night in Boracay. And it’s strange, because I’m excellent at writing backwards and at writing upside down but throw in a camera and the need for me to write with my whole body and I just suck. I do.
And this should have bothered me but it didn’t, not really, because minutes after I proved that I suck at light painting, I spotted a shooting star. Which is remarkable because I wasn’t wearing my glasses and we have recently established the fact that I am near-sighted, a fact that, sadly, was not established during one hot night in Boracay. So yes, there was a shooting star and for some reason I felt like it was winking at me, like it was telling me, hey, it’s okay, you don’t have to be great at light painting. You can be great at something else. Hopefully not at being near-sighted.
I’d like to be great at a lot of things. Drawing. Playing the piano. Picking up after myself. Keeping my lone drawer organized. Getting off my ass. Making you happy.
But I can’t draw. And I can only play the piano with one hand. And I leave rooms looking like they were hit by a tornado. And my lone drawer is messy, you can see for yourself. And I can’t even get off this couch to put a shirt on.
But I can make you happy.
They can have their light painting, they can have their drawings, they can have their freaking pianos, they can have clean rooms, organized drawers, asses that move by command.
I just want to make you happy.