I used to look at the sky. It used to be blank, like an empty canvas, and I know I was the painter; a painter who was unaware that she was the painter. I was always too busy, trying to think of what could be drawn on those sad empty skies. I was always too busy trying to uncover the shiny little trinkets hidden behind those dark colors, that I almost did not notice the brightly shining diamond who had been beside me the whole time and it took me very long to notice, but just long enough to finally be able to realize that I am the painter; long enough to finally fix my broken paintbrush so I could start painting again.
First night: I looked at the sky. The shiny little trinkets were finally beginning to unbosom. I was finally able to make use of that thin paintbrush that was slowly getting swallowed by dust. The sky was a little brighter now, but it was still dark.
Second night: I looked at the sky. I found the diamond and saw what real glitters looked like. I painted the little trinkets again, and applied the shiny glitters that I perceived from the diamond. It inspired me, and the sky became even brighter. I knew it was a start of something new.
Third night: The shiny little trinkets were gone. They were no longer just little trinkets, but finally recongnizeable as stars already. They surrounded an even brighter crescent-shaped object. It was the moon. The sky was happier to look at this time.
Fourth night: Stars in the sky formed asterisms. What was once just a crescent-shaped moon slowly transformed to a full round-shaped moon. The sky wasn’t sad to look at. It was something different, and I was the one who painted it that way, all motivated by the diamond’s shining shimmers.
I am the painter who used to be inspirationless. He is the diamond who inspired me to become better.