A dot, another dot,

An upside down rainbow, trapped in a circle.

Two oddly stretched out ovals with five smaller ovals

Attached to it,

sprouted out from the sides of a triangle.

To finish it off, four lengthy straight lines below the triangle

As if it were magically growing legs,

Tied with two small ovals at the ends.

This was my idea at four years old

of a drawing of the perfect human girl.

So focused on my drawing,

My tiny heart had stopped beating uncontrollably.

I did not talk to a single person, I did not move,

I was frozen like a possum playing dead,

So my predators, my classmates,

Wouldn’t notice I was there.

Until one girl looked at my drawing and asked,

“How did you draw that?”

to some people

i am a robot

a toy they can toss around

an object that gets insulted and yelled at

with no memory or feeling at school

then I go home

to relax and listen to music

violently punch the shuffle button

playing random songs i don’t know

and imagine bottles of emotions getting crushed,

smashed into shards of coloured glass

each one a different colour

changing with the music

as each insult gets smashed into nothing

painting a new picture under the afternoon sunlight

On Mondays and Thursdays,

I spend my day laughing with Vivaldi, and studying with Bach.

On Tuesdays and Wednesdays,

I have my nose in a book, or my eyes locked on a screen,

My fingers typing furiously away.

On Fridays and Sundays,

I have Gatorade in my hand, chugging it every second I get.

And on Saturdays,

I am Chelsea.

Chelsea is a girl who has messy folders filled with magical realms and spooky stories.

She’s made from a cluttered room, with books and clothes lying all over.

She’s someone who listens to her heart, and makes impulse decisions.

She has dreams of living fearlessly as a girl,

And believes that every child deserves the whole world.

At the end of the day,

I wear a smile and headphones, jamming out to my own beat.

A clockwork,

Keeping strict time, with many voices.

A child,

Naive, bright, and full of energy.

A typewriter,

Fast and clean, technically precise.

A stormy sea, abrupt and tempestuous,

But a bridge to…

Unrequited love,

Sentimental feeling streaming out.

A peacock,

a flashy virtuosic showman.

Majestic mountains,

Grand, epic, and triumphant.

These composers have shaped me as a musician.

“i”. Our first variable—

significantly symbolizing a specific value;

maybe the mathematicians need some help

so Question One says: solve for i.

I feel forced to see algebra everywhere—

mainly because of my upbringing

consisting of the “Left Brain Centric” method.

Math and Science might as well have been my parents.

I would rather watch paint dry—

the acrylics that I threw on the canvas myself

for a passionate character illustration,

depicting a Victorian scene from my story.

I look towards a future of freedom—

finally, switch off the number-loving façade

and become an artist of thoughts and dreams,

whether it means using watercolours or words.