I laid broken in the gutter, as the world passed me by. They would glance at me with faces of pity and disgust. “You’ll never get out of that gutter,” they grumbled, as they kicked me farther down.
In my mind, I clung tightly to visions of climbing out one day, and returning to my work, despite the worlds disdain.
“You’re not good enough.” they’d sneer, interrupting my thoughts. “Get a real job. You can’t make money doing that!”
Still, my dreams held tight and sustained me. I saw myself renewed and walking into my studio to create. My work brought joy to some of their faces, and even changed their minds. They began to support me and become my patrons, elevating me further from the gutter I once knew. I had come alive.
But it was still just a dream.
The song of a bird happened to grab my ear, and snap me back to reality. “It’s time,” I whispered under my breath.
And I pulled myself up out of the gutter.