As a kid I would draw pictures of animals, people and places in my imagination. I would fill up whole notebooks with pictures. When I got older, I started thinking about how to make the pictures better. I decided that adding details like different colors and shadows made the pictures look more real. I started to try different ways of drawing the pictures. First, I tried drawing them with my right hand. But this didn't work as well as I wanted.
Then, I tried drawing them with my left hand. This worked much better. Then, I decided to try drawing with my foot. Again, this worked much better. Some kids in my class laughed at me and said I sucked at drawing. I told them that they were just jealous because they couldn't do it. The girl in my class that I had a crush on told me I was weird and she wouldn't go out with me even if I did ask her.
As I got older I discovered that I liked how pictures looked when they had different colors and shadows. Some of my pictures in my notebooks were signed "J.L." I wondered who J. was so I looked in one of my old notebooks. I saw a picture of a little boy with dark hair. He was wearing shorts and a yellow T-shirt. On his feet were sandals.
That little boy was me! I had forgotten that I used to draw pictures like that when I was little. I thought about making up a story about the picture and writing it down in my notebook. The next time I went to the art store, I bought some colored pencils and drawing paper to use for making pictures. At first, it was really hard because my hand couldn't bend the way it needed to for drawing pictures.
I went to an art therapist and he helped me do exercises to make my hand stronger. After a while, it got easier. The more I practiced, the easier it got. Soon I didn't need the art therapist anymore. One day in class, my teacher saw that I was drawing pictures with colored pencils. She told me that I should major in art in college. I thought that was a great idea! I started looking at different art schools.
I applied to an art school in a town near where I live. I feel really lucky because I got accepted! In the fall, I will be a sophomore in college. My mom is so proud of me, and my dad says he knew I could do it. I still don't think I'm that good, but I try my best. I still have trouble drawing with my right hand. It just doesn't look as good.
My mom bought me a new notebook for school. On the first page, I wrote: "Jens Lembke, age 13." Then, I drew a picture of me at age 4 wearing my yellow T-shirt and sandals. The next picture is me at age 10 wearing my green shorts and white T-shirt. And finally, the last picture is me at age 13 in a purple T-shirt and jean shorts.
I stare at the pictures in my new notebook. They tell a story, but I wonder what will happen in the next chapter. I go to class and take notes like normal, but I'm still thinking about the future. What will happen next?