The Silence Of Lost Feelings

Lumen sat at his desk, the sketchbook lying before him, untouched. His pencil, usually so eager to dance across the page, now felt like a foreign object in his hand. The blank sheet of paper before him mirrored the emptiness he felt inside—his mind blank, his heart restless. He could still remember the thrill of creating, the rush of turning a fleeting thought into something tangible. But now, it seemed out of reach, as if the connection between him and his art had frayed and slipped away.

He sighed, setting the pencil down gently, not out of frustration but out of resignation. He wasn't the type to throw a fit or lash out at the world when things didn't go his way. Getting angry, causing a fuss—it felt pointless to him. He knew that anger only built walls between people and opportunities, and right now, he needed clarity, not noise.

Lumen rose from his desk and grabbed his jacket. He needed to clear his mind, to step away from the pressure of his art, his memories, and everything that weighed him down. Taking a walk was his way of finding stillness. The world around him would always move, and sometimes, all he needed was to find a moment of peace in the rhythm of his own footsteps.

As he walked through the quiet streets, Lumen let his thoughts wander. He passed by the familiar landmarks—the corner where he and Lina used to meet after school, the café where they had spent hours talking about everything and nothing. The memories of those moments still stung, but they were no longer the sharp, biting reminders they had once been. The pain had dulled with time, like the fading echoes of a song that had played on repeat too long.

Still, as he walked, he couldn't help but wonder if he had missed something crucial. His mind replayed the moment Lina had asked him who he liked. He had lied, convinced that he wasn't good enough to be honest with her. He had told himself that he was protecting her by pretending he liked someone else, but in doing so, he had closed the door on something real. He had let fear rule him, and now, he was left with the consequences.

Lumen stopped for a moment at the old bridge overlooking the river, the water flowing steadily beneath him. The tranquility of the scene reminded him of a time when things had felt simpler, when he had been able to draw without hesitation, without second-guessing himself. It had always been about expressing his feelings, about connecting with something deeper than words.

But now, with Lina no longer in his life the way she had been, he felt disconnected from the one thing that had once given him a sense of purpose. He had stopped drawing, not because he wanted to, but because he couldn't find the right spark. Without her—without the inspiration she had unknowingly given him—he felt adrift.

Lumen took a deep breath, allowing the cool air to fill his lungs. He knew he couldn't keep running from his emotions. He had to face the truth, even if it was painful. The truth was that he had let Lina slip away, and now he had to figure out how to move forward without her. But more than that, he had to rediscover his passion, his love for art that had once come so naturally.

He wasn't sure where to begin. His mind was still clouded with self-doubt, the remnants of missed opportunities and unspoken feelings. But standing there by the river, with the calm flowing water in front of him, he realized something important: he didn't need to have all the answers right now. He didn't need to force himself to create something perfect. He just needed to start again, however small that step might be.

"I guess, I am a fool." He muttered to himself.

Lumen turned back, heading home with a sense of resolve he hadn't felt in a long time. He wouldn't let his art remain a casualty of his fears. He would find a way to reconnect with it, even if it meant taking it one small, tentative step at a time. The walk had helped clear his mind, but now, it was time to face the blank page once more—not with expectations, but with the willingness to try, to experiment, and to feel something again.

As he returned to his room and sat back down at his desk, Lumen opened his sketchbook once more. The page was still blank, but it no longer felt like a daunting void. It felt like a new beginning.

He picked up his pencil, not knowing what would come next, but for the first time in a while, he was ready to find out.

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