UNKNOWN POV

Blank.

That was all I saw. All I heard. All I felt.

And I knew not what I painted; I wasn't frustrated either. The last bit sounded good since I hated being like everyone else. I wasn't like other artists.

I selected some pigments and stroked them across the canvas, wallowing in the void I'd found myself.

One would think that after all my hard work, I'd be happier than a king for finally achieving my goal. I had thought so, in fact. Uncle Emiliano too. Zia.

But here I was. Worse than an average person. Life taster blander water. And I honestly didn't know why. Initially, I'd...