The Artist

The short story of two girls and how their friendship started.

Everyone has their own little world. Some people abuse it, others ignore it; some grab happiness from it when they're sad, but others flourish and grow in it. Each world is different but special in its own way. Every single one is expressed differently. The list goes on forever: nature, music, cities, books, singing, dancing, fast cars, video games, and sports. And that's not even half the list.

There once was a little girl, though she's not so little anymore, who like many others had her own little world. Her world was a large theater that played musicals around the clock. Her musicals consisted of beauiful monologues, lovable characters, memorable music, and glorious costumes. The stories of her musicals were nothing less than perfect, at least in her mind. To that little girl, her world meant everything. But with every form of entertainment comes the critics.

The critics shattered that little girl's heart, and no matter how hard that little girl tried, the critics never stopped. Her musicals meant nothing to them. Because of this the little girl became withdrawn and lonely. She cried often and avoided people. She had retreated so far back into her world that it quickly turned into reality.

Now, everyone has a world, but at the same time everyone has a brother or sister. Not necessarily by blood but by worlds. In some cases worlds can be similar or exactly alike, and when those people meet they almost immediately become friends. Then there are those precious moments when two worlds are comletely different, but the siblings can combine them to get a whole, new world that they can share together.

As the little girl grew up, she never thought of having a sibling. Her attitude was that no one understood her, and nobody ever would. Her belief was that she didn't need a sibling, but all of that changed when she meet the Artist. She was the only one, that the little girl had meet, who expressed her world in paint.

The Artist was friendly and outgoing, but like the little girl, her paintings were judged harshly by the critics. But to the little girl, the Artist was perfect.

The Artist's world is beautiful, in both of the girls' eyes. It's vivid and colorful in every way. The little girl has seen all of the gorgeous landscapes: the flower fields, the deep oceans, the clear skies, the clean lakes, and the brilliant snow-capped mountians. During the day, the girl likes to soak in the bright yellow sun that the Artist painted with care, and at night, she loves to stare at that silver moon and count the stars that the Artist had painstakingly drawn.

The girl has seen all of the bright and vivid paintings, and she has glanced at the dark ones. She has seen that world of paint radiant with happiness and listened as the wind singed. And at those moments when the Artist is sad, the girl has watched the world cry and rain black and blue.

The Artist has helped that little girl more than she knows. And I have no clue how to thank her. The Artist cured that pathetic child that was me.

The Artist and I understand each other. I know which colors mean what, and she finds my musicals fun and adventurous. The Artist has showed me a world unlike any other. She has taught me how to be free, how to be one with reality, and most importantly how to be a friend.

The Artist is beauiful, poetic, and more. She was, and always will be, perfect in my mind. She is my support, my friend, my sister, and I protect her from the critics of the world.

I love you, my sister, and I will always be here for you no matter what. Don't ever give up, my Artist... don't ever give in.

The End

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