Voids Fill Up Differently by Students of IACT (books to read for teens .TXT) 📖

and had a great time reminiscing on the past over freshly cooked pasta for dinner with a side of cream spinach and some bread rolls from Jacintha’s bakery. There was so much for us to catch up on, we haven’t met each other ever since we graduated from art class in primary school back when we were 12. Apparently, he’s had a lot going for him in his life, becoming a successful painter before becoming one of Malaysia’s big-time art critiques. I envied him in a good way. At least he doesn’t have to worry about putting food on the table for his loved ones, nor is he depending on his partner’s income to live out his life comfortably. Just as I was pondering on this thought, Max asked that one dreadful question.

 

“How’s your art coming along?”

 

At that moment, the feeling of shame and failure dawned upon me. I was so afraid to tell him the truth, fearing that he might look down on me like everyone else. I finally replied to him after much hesitation.

 

“It’s been tough man," I sighed. "None of my art are selling. In fact, it’s been more than a week since I last sold something. I’ve heard criticism after criticism and I’m trying my best to adapt, but I still don't understand why they aren’t selling."

 

Max looked at me with a look that I have not seen in a very long time, a look of compassion. It wasn’t that judgemental look that I normally get and feared so much. After what seemed like hours, he smiled and gave me a pat on my back while looking at me in the eye.

 

“Tell me, Edward, what is love to you? Not what you think other people will perceive love as, I want your perception of love, what is it to you?” he asked in a tone that sounded as if he was talking to a child.

 

I stood there feeling confident that I was ready to answer him right away. Then I thought about it and slowly dig deep into the weight that the question held, I was left blank with no answer, Max looked at me with a smirk on his face, he knew he had hit the right spot with the right question. My blank facial expression said it all.

 

‘These are some of the questions I asked myself, I had to make some big life changes including breaking up with my ex, but that’s a story for another time. My point is, we as artists need to answer the deepest questions for ourselves so that when we paint, it’s our deepest and most honest feelings being splattered, drawn and painted onto canvases turning into this thing we call art but in reality it’s just another external expression of our inner self on empty canvases.” Max exclaimed.

 

“You know what? I’ll give you time to think about this, don’t you worry. In fact, I’m heading off to an art convention in Paris tomorrow and I’ll be back in a couple of days. Until then, why don’t you take this time to go on this journey, it’ll be tough but I know you’ll find your answer?” Max comforted me as he placed a hand on my shoulders, with a comforting look on his face.

 

When Max left and I finally had some time to think to myself, his question kept lingering in my mind.

 

What is love? What is love? Shouldn’t this be like some elementary question? Why can’t I answer it? I mean for crying out loud I have a girlfriend and I don’t even know what love is?

 

In the midst of my thoughts going wild and my brain is in a total mess, Jacintha came and embraced me.

 

“You’ve got this,’’ she said calmly.

 

Do I deserve her? I can’t even explain love and I have the most loving person in the whole wide world beside me, what are the odds? I wonder what's going through her mind right now, would she be worried that I couldn’t answer the question? I’m already burdening her with the rent and stuff, I’m just weighing her down and being baggage aren’t I?

 

“I’m sorry.” I stammered, “I’m just holding you down, I’ll understand if you want to leave this, I mean think about it, I can’t even answer what’s, love? Even a 12-year-old could do that.” I added

 

“I’m here ‘til the end, Ed. I think you know what love is, I think, deep down you already know the answer. Everyone has to go through this journey of their own to answer the deepest questions in life. Stop comparing yourself to others, I love you for who you are! And I’ll support you till the very end,” she comforted.

 

I quickly slid off my chair and gave her a tight hug. This was really what I needed to get started on this journey. Someone who would love this failure of a man, pushing him outside his comfort zones. I really am blessed.

 

I stayed up all night just rambling through my old paintings and old journals, scavenging through what my younger self thought of what love was. Digging through my old journals, I was reminded that there were two significant moments in my life where I could genuinely say that was love to me.

 

One of them was when my mom was going through chemotherapy. Even when she was quarantined, my dad took every opportunity he had to be by her side physically and emotionally through it all, all the way till she passed. That was a really tough time but seeing my dad’s actions made it a little more ‘bearable’.

 

Looking back and putting myself in the shoes of my younger self, I started to ponder and embrace all my emotions; sadness, grief and even joy. Maybe my definition of love hasn’t changed at all? This journey is going to make me dive deeper into my emotions. It's not going to be easy, but I knew deep down it'll all be worth it.

 

The next morning I got up and brought Jacintha along with me to a place. A place where I can say I first defined what love was, the park in Klang town. I used to go there a lot with my family but haven’t been back there since we moved to KL.

 

While driving to the park we passed by a familiar road; the trees, the bumpy roads. Nothing has changed. I even drove past the same stall with the same aunty who I used to buy pisang goreng from when I was young.

 

“Things in Klang don’t change do they?” I chuckled

 

After parking the car we walked straight onto the path. The crunching of the dried leaves took me back to the time where I would race my dad to see who reached the park first and he would always let me win. He would always reward me with pisang goreng when we went home. We continued walking but my eyes began to tear up. Man, I didn’t expect to feel this much this quick.

 

We walked to the old swing where my mom and I used to go to all the time. It looked like it was in horrible condition, no longer safe for anyone to sit on now. I still remember how my mom always refused to push me harder the fear that I’ll go too high and eventually fly off the swing. She always cared so much for all of us.

 

While reminiscing on the past Jacintha grabbed hold of my hand and gave me the most beautiful smile I’d ever seen.

 

“You alright?” she asked.

 

“Yea, just a lot of memories coming through right now,” I replied.

 

“It’s okay, take your time, but I’m really glad we got to do this together,” she affirmed.

“There’s just one last place I wanted to see in this park. Come on, it'll be a quick one.” I insisted.

 

However, this was the one place in the park where I actually didn’t want to go to, but I knew I had to face it. It was a small hut near the lake, the real reason why I really didn’t want to come here was that it’s the place where I heard my parents had a big fight. It wasn’t their typical bickers and arguments because at 9 years old, I heard the word divorce for the first time coming out of my parent’s mouth. I was confused, I didn’t know what it was, but I knew this would haunt me for a long time. All of a sudden this happy childhood place turned into a painful memory. Like a knife permanently scarring me for life.

 

As we approached the hut, my hands began to tremble. Flashbacks started to fill my mind. I felt as if I could still hear what they were arguing about. They didn’t know I was there, I was a young boy, cooling back tears as he watched his dad cursed at his mom and her returning it with a tight slap to the face. This went on for about 5 minutes until they spotted me peaking.

 

Unknowingly, I began to tear up at the sight of the hut. Jacintha grasps onto my hand again and hugged me.

 

“I’m here for you. You need to let go, you need to move on.” she encouraged

 

Maybe she’s right? I’ve been so caught up in not progressing in life, I haven’t addressed the issues that have held me all these years. I stood silent for a while before taking a deep breath and whispering to myself

 

“I’m letting this go.”

 

It felt as if there was a heavy burden lifted off my shoulders. It was strong, almost as if it was physically weighing me down.

 

“I’m proud of you. And you know, you will still have wounds from the past, everyone does, but through this journey, you can finally allow yourself to heal from it.” she comforted as the tears kept rolling down my face.

 

I soon realized that what I thought was just a philosophical question has set me on this journey. A journey that requires me to take action. This wasn’t easy, but I love everything that was happening. It didn’t feel like I was doing this for my art anymore. It was as if the universe itself is setting me on this journey to show me the darkest parts of me.

 

We went back into the car in silence, but it wasn’t the awkward type of silence, no. This silence was comforting, it was peaceful. Jacintha continued comforting me by holding my hand all the way back to the car. For some reason, the returning journey felt longer than it took coming here. We got into the car and I continued bawling my eyes out. This wasn’t tears of sorrow, this was tears of joy and freedom.

 

“Where do you want to go to next?” she asked.

 

I just smiled and said, “It’s a surprise, but you’ll be familiar with it.”

 

Jacintha began to stare at me with a curious look on her face. She was the type of person who didn’t enjoy surprises.

 

“I’ll give it to you this time, but I ask one thing, don’t give me a heart attack like your last surprise!” she joked.

 

We took about a 40-minute drive back to KL, Jacintha fell asleep on the way back. I felt exhausted, mentally and physically, but the excitement of the next place we were heading to kept me awake.

 

We finally reached, it was an old shop lot that was recently renovated for a new hipster cafe. But beside it was an old small bakery. This was the bakery that Jacintha used to work at and also where we first met. I gently tapped on her shoulders to wake her up. When she opened her eyes, her tired expression lit up. I could see the immense joy in her face.

 

“Oh my god, I haven’t been back here in ages!” she screamed.

 

We both got down and Jacintha rushed into the bakery, hoping to see her old colleagues and bosses. I stood outside staring at the signboard of the bakery. ‘Perpetual Pies, Best