Be the best or be nothing at all. Remember that no one remembers the second best or the rest for that matter. Aim for the top place. Always.
I had it in my head that individuals were constantly looking for attention and a good reputation. We lived for their compliments. Who doesn't like to be complimented? One positive word from you, they can live for a day. One positive sentence forms you, then they can build an altar and worship you. They can even kiss your feet.
"Our school's pride! Let us give Mr. Merritt a standing ovation! The well-known art competition was held in Manila. And, of course, congrats to Ms. Hernandez on her second-place finish. Thank you very much! Mr. Merritt, top one!”
Roaring applause was given by the crowd to us and especially to him. I don’t know if it’s because he’s drop-dead gorgeous or because he won. I bet my life, it’s the former.
When my name was called, I couldn't help but notice the host's low tone. See, second place means nothing. I also stood up and clapped. I didn't clap because I wanted to; I clapped because it was my initial inclination, and it was required by the program. And I should, because I'm one of the winners!
“Congratulations, Ms. Hernandez. Your arts are good and getting better.” The host mumbled to me and smiled with her lips pursed.
Comparative versus superlative adjective, I see.
Her words could no longer be heard due to the great weakness of her voice and the crowd’s loudness. I accept her compliment with a nod of my head. It would have been lovely to hear her praises, but they didn't last long in my ears. Her words sound rehearsed.
“Thank you, Ma’am.” I return the smile she gave to me.
Another medal and trophy to be cover with dust.
James Austin Merritt, the winner, in his custom-tailored tux from the back of the host, sashaying his way to us. His chiseled arms are highlighted by his serge coat. His tousled hair, crimson lips, flushed cheeks, and metal timepiece. His deportment now matched his brusqueness and arrogance so well. He looks expensive and extremely confident.
“I know I mentioned it before, but let me congratulate you again,” he says as he clears his throat. “Congratulations, Ms. Olivia,” He's in top form, with his cheeky smile on his face, and his right palms outstretched in front of me, indicating that I should take it.
This is the type of guy I should avoid.
“You, too, Mr. Merritt. You brought the school’s name again. I’m so honored to join you in that dazzling journey we had in Manila. You’re the best companion.” I clasped his hand in mine and smiled at him.
The words taste so wrong on my tongue. I can even taste the bitterness.
“You two did an outstanding job. And this handsome prodigy, oh, darling, make us prouder,” the host taps his right cheek. She has the look of a proud mother. I almost puked when I saw how sweet it was.
He turns his face toward me, allowing me to get a good look at his aristocratic features. “Not at all, Ma'am. Olivia is here, and she is the best at everything. As with anything! Did you happen to notice what she used in the competition? She used oil paint as well as poster paint! The beauty of her artwork is breathtaking! I'm lost for words to describe how stunning and talented she is. I was startled and mesmerized as I stared at her. I-I'm referring to her painting,” His prominent cheekbones turning a slight shade of red.
I stifle a little chuckle. I'd like to believe him. His comments, despite the oozing tone of sarcasm and stupidity, ring true in my ears. I only hope Mrs. Ronald, the host, agrees with us, although I doubt it. Her sour expression tells me so.
My hands are itching to hit him - no, beat him! Hmm… maybe later, Mr. Merritt.
“What exactly are you saying, Mr. Merritt? You won, which implies you're the best. What would happen to our department if you weren't there? A strong and confident man. Your artistic prowess is out of this world,” she shook her head, wanting to put a stop to the conversation.
Mrs. Roland may believe that a man has all the power, but this is not the case. I wholeheartedly disagree. I believe that women can accomplish just as much as men.
It appears to me that I am not as important as him and that I was only placed there to fill the gap. My achievement and trophy mean nothing to them.
“No, no, Ma’am. She’s also a winner in the competition too. I was so amazed at how good she was that I was ready to go home crying that day,” He shoves his hands in his pockets and glances over me. His left dimples popping out.
“Alright, Austin, if you say so. I'll leave you two alone now. I’ll just talk to someone on the other side.” She gracefully turns her back on us. Her sour expression remained.
“What was the point of that?” You want to court me?” My arms are folded on my chest.
His mouth fell open, and his brown eyes were as large as saucers and almost out of their sockets. He has a peculiar appearance. I nearly roll on the carpet!
“No. Never, Miss, but you can thank me though. And then I'll say, 'Welcome, Olivia.' How does that sound?”
I groan. As I looked at him, I wondered how someone could be so dumb.
“I appreciate your kind words, Mister. Hearing that made my day.” I mock him by pressing my palm to my chest and bowing slightly.
He mumbles an expletive under his breath. “Stop dissing me, please. The competition ended well and unbiasedly. And are we already friends, or am I imagining things? But for me, we’re already friends. We can help each other. We can also create beautiful artwork. What do you think?” He wiggles his eyebrow. As a result, he is quite attractive; otherwise, he would resemble Mr. Bean.
“No, we're not friends, and we never will be. Well, unless you are the firm believer of ‘keep your friends close but keep your enemies closer, then we can be friends,” I shrug my shoulder acting as a cool kid. I just need myself and no more.
His stares are so intense that I almost cringe.
“If that’s what you want, then fine. We’re enemies now.”
Perhaps it is true that when the universe aligns, there is a force that allows two opposing things to become one.
I let him see every inch of my heart.
On the floor was a jumble of canvases, paintbrushes, and paint colors. Images of hazy landscape sceneries, abstract paintings, and random people's portraits are hung, while some are simply lying against the wall. I watched him in the corner as he was serious about what he was doing. It’s like he’s the only one in the room and his painting is the most important thing in the world. His hand seems to be dancing to a rhythm that only he can hear. The veins in his arms protruded when the paintbrush kissed the canvas. His brow wrinkled and his crimson lips parted slightly. It's amazing to look at him in such a way that you wouldn't believe he's puerile and truant.
Let’s make art together. No rivalry between us.
His words break the high sturdy wall I built for anyone to protect myself.
“I'm hungry,” I said, although I'm not. All I want is for him to pay attention to me as well.
“Then, eat. I don't have your mouth,” he says. He didn't even look at me. He's really serious about what he's doing.
“You’re arts is romantically beautiful, Austin. It never fails to amaze me. I want to make you a statue,”
“Really? That's very thoughtful of you, Olivia. Thank you for your backhanded compliments. It's much appreciated. And I think... I'm going to cry. Could you please hand me a tissue?” He retorted.
Oh, God! Give me more patience.
Dropping my head back against my chair and dragging my breath through my nose. I prop my right elbow on the armrest and lean my head against my hand.
“Have you read what was posted in the bulletin? They’ll have competition again. Maybe you'd like to join?” Now he's focused on me and telling me something else. His words were vague in my ears. In a trance, I'm staring at a line of ants scurrying around the wall. What if I lose once more? A second-place finisher again? I don't want to lose. For once, I'd want to be on top. No, I always want to be at the top. No one but myself! The best of the rest!
I'm a sad little girl who craves attention and longs to escape reality. My anxiety began to attack.
I recall my father yelling at me, "I won't look at your trashy trophy, and I'm not proud!" He claimed that painting is not a career and that I cannot earn a living from it. The benefit here is that dad let me choose the course I wanted, which is why I chose fine arts, but how could this freedom feel so lonely?
He spews his venom at me for not being the best. I held my tongue and waited until he was satisfied with the damage. I can't blame him; he's one of the most competitive people I've ever met. He was distraught. It’s like I’m trying to hold hot water in my bare hands. So cruel. He has such a terrible opinion of me. I value the arts in all of their forms.
I believe in the power of words and their ability to affect people. They have the power to make or break you. They can even kill you.
“You’re worthless! You deserved everything bad that happened to you! All the hate! Why won’t you just die?!” I screamed as I stood in front of the mirror, pointing to myself.
And he made me feel unloved and unworthy.
I was immersed in thought when I felt a tap on my shoulder.
He looks at me as if he’s reading my mind and my soul, “Hey, I got you now. You’re doing your absolute best. Stop trying to control everything around you. Stop it. Stop thinking about the outcome of every situation, just enjoy the moment. Don’t be hard on yourself, Olivia.” His tone is gentle.
“If everyone turns their back on you, then look at me. I’m your number one fan, remember? I hope that’s enough.” He mumbled.
In response, I gave him my genuine smile.
People have asked me if I’m okay with placing second or third, and I’ve always said yes. That's the response they're looking for. They don't care about me. They simply want to pique their interest. That's all there is to it. That's why, in the end, you're the only one left in the dark, bruised, and defeated. You didn't get the kind of attention you were hoping for. Who would want to hear from someone like me? Nobody knows who I am. This is how the world works
Jesus! I sound like a petulant child.
The afternoon zephyr gently ruffled my hair a little. I'm seated in my school uniform on the far side of the school's reading sanctuary section's concrete gazebo, surrounded by trees whose leaves are already falling and scattering on the sidewalk. It's a peaceful spot. The sound of the page of the book I’ am reading hurt the silence of the surroundings.
It tells the story of a wise man who can't seem to find himself. He was enslaved to the standard that society and his family imposed on him. Because of his intelligence, he lacked a friend. His diary was his lone confidante. In this journal, he writes down all of his thoughts and the words that are stuck in his head.
Why do I have an affinity towards him? Perhaps because we are in a similar situation. I recognize myself in him and can relate to him. If he utilized a pen and paper to write down what was going through his mind. In turn, I used a paintbrush and a canvas to express my feelings and resentments in life.
I was so engrossed in my daydream that I didn't notice the mighty Austin lounging coolly against the jamb of the gazebo, hands in his pockets, and chewing his bubble gum, which he even inflated and chewed again. Yes, he is sometimes gross. He chuckles awkwardly at me and takes the chocolate cupcake from his pocket. He uses his teeth to peel it off.
“I wish you a very happy birthday, Olivia. And I'm sorry I won't be singing you a happy birthday song. Now, Olivia, make a wish.”
I lock my gaze on him. I consider myself extremely blessed to have him. I close my eyes and whisper to the wind.
“Break those shackles, and watch me fly.”
My room opens with a loud bang, waking me up. I could see his familiar shape in my hazy eyes.
“Join the contest and show me what you've got.” He spoke it loudly and authoritatively. My father's actions surprised me. Isn't that the truth? I heard it very clear. My nails dug into the palms of my hands so deeply.
Take the risk or lose the chance. I'd go with the former, despite my reservations.
I shield my face from the light with my right hand. He, too, squints from the sun. I'm not sure why we decided to go for a walk in the middle of the day. I'm perspiring, and his neck is flushed. He unlocked the door for me when we arrived at the school's art studio. The door is excessively large and heavy. To open it, he must use all of his strength.
“How come this old door won't let a handsome man like me in? If this door is a woman, I'd say she's just trying to get my attention.” He winks at me as he turns to face me.
I take a seat next to him and maintain a comfortable distance between us. We're currently practicing. The crickets could be heard all around us.
To be honest, I had lost track of what made me happy. I've run out of ideas, motivation, and energy. I didn't have anything to look forward to. I close my eyes tightly.
“Yes, you’re doing it right. Stroke it slowly. Don’t get frustrated,”
“Everything is mediocre,” I scream, hurling the paintbrush. He took it and returned it to me.
“Slow progress is better than no progress at all, Olivia,”
“Easy for you to say. You’re famous. You’re so good. No, you’re the best! The greatest! Everyone loves you. And me, I’ am no one. A good-for-nothing daughter. Tell me… when it will be me?”
He blinks several times. Because of his heavy breathing, I notice his shoulders bouncing up. He's chewing his lower lip. In his eyes, I can feel his exasperation and sorrow. He reaches for my face and gently caresses my cheek.
“You know what, I think I should call it quits. My dreams are shattered all around me. From the start, everything is wrong. I can't function properly,” I grumble. I'm furious at myself.
I'm losing control of everything. I'm losing interest in things that used to excite me. It’s like I'm no longer a part of anything. My cheeks are flushed with tears.
“If that’s wrong, then I don’t want to be right. And don’t compare your artworks to mine, or everyone, that’s just deadly. Everyone has their uniqueness. You are your person,” he whispers.
Despite his words, I am still empty. I'm desperate to get this emotion out of my system.
The opinions of those around us have an impact on how we perceive ourselves. Austin, on the other hand, is arrogant, harsh, and blunt, but he can be a dark knight in sparkling armor. He sees right through people. He lives his life to the fullest.
I stare out the window. The car was moving so fast that the trees we were passing through swiftly vanished from my vision. I'm leaning against to it. I believe we are all dissatisfied individuals. We wish for something that we don't have. We envy people and things in various ways and on various levels. We wish to be that person and live their life. We desire things to satisfy ourselves. People are usually asking for something good, yet they are frequently asking for something bad. We just don't notice it, or if we do, we're too afraid to acknowledge it. People are also cynical.
I'm extremely nervous right now. Inside, my toes wiggled into my shoes. I can even hear my heartbeat in my ears and a strong throb against my skull. I'm feeling nauseous. My heartbeat quickened as fear swelled in my chest. Austin, on the other hand, appears to be a lost child at the playground. His eyes are shining with enthusiasm.
Today is the competition day. I used to think of him as my enemy, my tough opponent. But suddenly things are different.
“I'm drowning in anxiety and fear. Who wants to swim with me?” I asked him. We were in the park at the time. I'm sitting on the concrete bench, watching the kids play.
“Me. I can even bring some colorful floaters. You want that?” he answered me while licking his lollipop.
I lift my eyes and stare at him. He was looking at a large artwork in front of us, arms akimbo. He has a carefree smile on his face.
“This is it! The world has to be ready. We are here now, ready to conquer them,” He has a devilish grin on his face.
"Don't live too much in our head, Olivia. This time you are not alone,” He added, and continued watching the artwork, "I will not allow you."
The overthinking sucks that drove me to do some irrational things, as well as my anxiety, which accompanies me around and feeds my fear, are still here. Now all I have to do is revalue myself to forgive and love myself better. I'm going to improve with time.
And he’s with me now. We are here now. This is our now. This is the reality.
“And Olivia, it’s always been you.”
