Art Fairy

I opened my door with a tired hand and plodded into my room. I sighed as I looked at the walls and mess around me. I took in the surroundings that I had seen so many times before. The scenery that had once felt familiar to me now seemed much more sinister. I glared at the papers and drawing utensils scattered on my desk as I sat down. I could feel their presence gnawing at me, mocking me.

I groaned as I mentally prepared myself. I clicked onto my page and refreshing, bracing for the feedback I had gotten. My heart sank. I hadn’t gotten any good feedback. I hadn’t gotten any bad feedback, either. I hadn’t gotten any feedback at all, that was the problem. Nobody was looking at my art. I wasn’t even worth a snarky comment from a passing asshole. My art was so shitty and boring it was beneath notice.

“Fuck this,” I hissed out between pursed lips.

I swiped my hand across my desk, clearing it of all materials and utensils. The object clattered onto the floor, but I didn’t bother looking where they fell. I used the new space to prop my elbows into my desk as I buried my face into my hands.

I was done. I would never achieve anything. Nobody even cared enough to laugh at me. I had failed utterly. I was stupid to think that I could achieve anything like this. Just like everything else in my life, I was destined for failure. I began thinking back to my parents, who had begged me not to drop out of college.  And now here I was, wallowing in failure and incompetence. My hands raked through my scalp as I quietly slipped into despair.

“Never give up!”

The voice came from my side, startling me out of my misery. I looked around, trying to locate the source of the outburst. My heart began racing. Who had said that? Was there someone in my room? I turned around to look over my shoulder, and still could not find the owner of the strange voice.

My previous self-reflection had been forgotten as my heart raced in anticipation of an intruder. After a few seconds had passed and I still had not located the source of the noise, I was ready to chalk the instance up to a bout of stress-induced hallucination. With a self-deprecating grin, I turned back around in my seat. I stared at my desk, ready to slip back into madness when I saw her. A small laugh escaped from my throat.

It was a fairy. I swear to god, a fucking fairy. She stood only a few inches tall, which would explain why I hadn’t been able to locate her before, assuming she was the owner of the voice from before. She looked up at me from my desk with a very sour expression. Her arms were folded over her colorful smock as her iridescent wings twitched behind her. She looked like she was on the verge of stamping her foot and yelling at me.

“What the fuck is this…” I said, thinking out loud.

At that, the tiny fairy puffed out her cheeks, pouting at my reaction. Her wings flitted quickly and she zipped up from my desk to float directly in front of my face. Her arms had uncrossed themselves at that point. Her right arm pointed at me while her other rested on her hip as she scowled at me.

“NEVER GIVE UP!” she repeated in a voice louder than I would have thought possible, given her size.

I smirked. A flood of relief washed over me as I realized what was going on. My earlier assumption had been correct; I was hallucinating due to stress. The little fairy was probably a representation of my final vestiges of self-confidence. That would probably explain why she was so small, because I had exhausted and destroyed my own concept of self-worth in the last few months. I smiled to myself. If I was having a breakdown, I decided to have fun and play along.

“And why shouldn’t I give up, little one?” I said in a confident tone. I already knew what she meant by ‘never give up’, since she was part of my subconscious.

“Because!” The little fairy exclaimed, her arms gesturing wildly as she shouted, “You’re so close! I can tell! Don’t give up now!”

I scoffed, “Close to what? Complete mental collapse? Because if I’m seeing literal fucking fairies I’d say so.”

“Don’t quit! Think of all the people cheering you on!” she said, ignoring my comment.

I frowned, “Who’s cheering me on? Friends? I haven’t got any. My parents? They’re disappointed in me. And they have a right to be. I’m a fuck up.”

The fairy crossed her arms and shook her head, “Nope! You’re wrong. There are plenty of people wishing you well.”

“Then, where the hell are they?” I growled. “Nobody is leaving me any comments on my stuff! They don’t care at all!”

“Wrong again!” She replied in an instant, with much more enthusiasm than I expected. “Just because they don’t leave any comments doesn’t mean they don’t like it. I’m sure there’s at least one person who enjoys your art. I’m sure when they see something you’ve made it puts a smile on their face.”

I just shook my head sadly, “Where are these people then? Because I can’t see them.”

The fairy put both of her hands on her hips and huffed out through her nostrils.

“Me!”

“You?” I repeated.

“Yep!” She said confidently. “I enjoy what you draw and I’m cheering you on. You will go on to do great things, I can tell!”

I leaned back in my chair incredulous. For some reason, her attitude irritated me at that moment. No matter what I told her, she had an answer. Who did she think she was, getting in the way of my misery? Why couldn’t she just allow me to self-loathe in peace?

“And how do you know I’ll go on to do great things?” I asked, rolling my eyes.

“Because,” she said without missing a beat, “I am an artist myself, and I’ve met lots of other artists. I have a sense for artistic skill! The very worst artists are those that could have been great but gave up early!”

I frowned and scoffed, looking away. I didn’t have an immediate response to give back to her. She took my silence as a queue to continue talking.

“You’re so close to a breakthrough, you just don’t know it yet!” She said, closing her hand into a fist.

I furrowed my brows. I felt my anger fade away, exposing the misery that had been lying beneath to begin with. The misery I had been dancing with before I was interrupted. The misery I was too afraid to truly face.

“And what if you’re wrong?” I asked, “What if I never get good? What if everyone hates it?”

I heard the soft flutter of her wings as she flew in closer to my face.

“No matter what happens,” she said in a soft tone, “I’ll always be rooting for you! Don’t give up, you can do it!”

Her optimism was hard to refute. My mind which had been previously so quick in inventing excuses was drawing a blank. I usually had no problems coming up with excuses and reasons why I would always fail. But as I took in the form of the kind, yet firm, fairy floating in front of me, I couldn’t think.

“I can do it?” I repeated dumbly.

“Yes, you can do it! You’re the best!” she said.
“I’m the best?”

“The very best! We’re all cheering you on!”

My constant self-loathing rolled over, bathing me in despair and bitterness. I wanted to believe the sweet words I was hearing, but I knew it was nonsense. It was just what I wanted to hear at the moment. Nothing more. My stomach clenched as I realized I would never have someone to really tell me these things. I buried my face in my hands as I once again felt my eyes begin to water.

“But you aren’t real,” I choked out.

The fairy was silent for a while. At first I thought I had finally dispersed the hallucination, and I felt a pang of regret. Although hallucinations are not healthy, it was nice to hear a voice of my own that wasn’t completely critical and negative. I pulled my head out of my hands and noticed the fairy was not in front of me.

However, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned my head and saw the fairy flitting over to my shoulder. She landed on my collar, hugging herself close to my neck. My body froze as I felt her tiny embrace envelope the tender flesh of my neck. Although her body was tiny, I could feel her warm gesture spread throughout my body, making me feel safe and content.

“I…I know I’m not real,” she said, “But that’s only because you haven’t made me real yet.”

I felt the fairy snuggle herself deeper into the recess of my neck and shoulder junction. The hair on the back of my neck stood up as I felt her nuzzle her face tenderly into my skin.

“Please don’t hurt yourself like this,” I heard her say, “I know you can do it.”

“I love you.” She added.

Stunned, I reached up to my neck to touch the fairy. I wanted to embrace her back, to have some concrete anchor to her. But as soon as my hand reached my neck, I felt only my own flesh in the spot where she had been. The soft comfort of her embrace had vanished as well.

I was stricken with loss for a moment. She had come to me so quickly and yet she was gone too soon. I almost began to despair again before I truly considered what she had told me. I sat very still for a few moments, reliving the encounter I’d had over in my head.

After a few minutes, I stood up and began to collect the drawing materials I had dumped onto the floor earlier when I first entered the room. I picked up a drawing pad and a pen and set them on my desk. I picked up the pen in my hand with a purpose. I tried to ignore the shaking of my hand as I began to put it to paper.

“Never give up,” I told myself.