When I think of happiness, a way to express myself, my passion, I think of one simple word. Art.  I’ve been drawing sense I could pick up a pencil.  Whether it was on the walls of our house or the kitchen table I had to leave my mark.  The way the pencil swept across the paper creating soft delicate lines fascinated me.  As I got older I would always be sketching on the corner of my tests or drawing on the back of my homework.  My parents finally bought me my first art set one year and I got to work.  I Drew people, animals, cars, and desks, anything that came to mind.  It was a different world, a world where I could make everything just how I wanted it.  Over the years my love for art grew and the more I practiced, the better I got.  I would sit for hours at a time looking around getting inspiration from even the tiniest of things.  My work never felt complete, I would try and try but it was never perfect.  I realize now, I will never thing any of my art is perfect but it may be to someone else. I’m definitely not the best but that’s okay, I don’t need to be.  In a world with so much color and excitement, it’s my duty to try and capture it in drawing for others to see.  Art is my way of letting go of all the problems, forgetting where I am, and just being me.  I could sit and draw my whole life but sadly that’s not how it is; someday I will be able to sell my art maybe even teach what I learned to others.  Until then I’m fine sitting in my room, imagining, creating, and exploring my own little world.