When I was barely more than a toddler, my grandmother would give me scrap paper and a pen to keep me quiet in church. Little did she know she'd given me the tools to my destiny. I loved to draw. It became an escape for me. I could create entire worlds, friends, and anything my imagination could dream.
My mother took notice of this gift and nurtured it. She enrolled me in art classes and encouraged me to participate in community events pertaining to art. My father, on the other hand, thought art would “never pay the bills” later in life. He didn't know. My father believed that physical labor was how you made money to pay the bills. He thought his words were best for me to understand real life. As I got older, the words angered me and soon became my fuel to prove him wrong. You see I believe good and bad things happen for a reason. (e.g. If Joseph Jackson wasn't so hard on the Jackson kids, the world may never have known Michael Jackson's greatness.)
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