As human beings, we are the very example of sin. Every time one gives a definition of either lust, envy, gluttony, greed, pride, sloth, or pride, someone is going to partake in the example to that. Particularly, a human. And it in a way was part of me.

Growing up, I practiced as hard as I could to learn how to draw. I looked at other artists work and was filled with nothing but jealousy. I was years behind these people, and I always thought I would always be behind, and never catch the rabbit that was sheer talent. But envy, it was what fueled me. It made me work harder and faster towards my goal, it was what made me improve.

An art class in fifth grade was what started it. The teacher slapped a picture up onto the whiteboard in the cafeteria. I forgot most of what she said, anything I try to remember is usually pure drabble. Though I remember her saying “I’ll give you twenty minutes to draw. If you have any questions feel free to ask me.”  

I wanted to ask her “ Can I have help..?” But the years of bullying sheltered my will to seek out, and thus bottled inside me.

We were to draw a Zebra, and that was it. But the girl next to me, oh the girl next to me filled me with such rage. I remember my blood actually boiling and the thought zipped through my mind for a small while to steal her art. Her lines were clean, neat, and beautiful. She had too much talent for her age. The Zebra she drew looked so realistic, and there I sat staring at my drawing that looked like a crippled horse.

From then on, I drew only from reference. I drew other people’s work, even if I knew they were way out of my league. With a small understanding of human anatomy, I drew portraits of people, fantasy creatures, and any art that made my own work look like utter blasphemy in comparison.

But quickly, I grew better. Years after I was at a point were I could look at my art compared to the originals and be proud. The lines were cleaner, and he proportions improved by a long shot. I was finally proud of my art. I was past getting frustrated and throwing away my hours of practice, for I now looked at my mistakes and improved up them.

Years later, up till now, I think of showing my past self the art I made. They would feel the same as back them and be jealous of it. I’m finally happy I can look back at that and think of myself as a better artist, the one I was always striving for, the one I thought I would never reach. I look at my art and I’m proud for the first time in years, and it’s pure bliss. No more crumpling up the paper and throwing it, no more getting mad or frustrated, but still the jealousy. I’m still jealous of other people's’ work, and it fuels me to improve even more.

Undoubtedly, I had become the artist I’ve always strived to be. And I will continue to do so and further get even better.