text: I set up my easel on the edge of the lake. Never have I chosen a more perfect spot; the reflection of the sun had created a beautiful sparkle across the water. This scene brought me great inspiration. I could use a dark sapphire here, some baby blue there... Yes, this is coming out great. I got my paints out of my bag and, feeling brave, started applying them directly to the canvas. As people passed by in canoes, I added their rough shapes to the painting. It was coming along well. I’m normally very critical of myself. How could I not be? All I was ever given is negative criticism, which constantly confirmed my view of my work. My parents were always engulfed in my sister’s many talents and interests, and never bothered to pay very much attention to me. Not that I didn’t love and admire my sister; she passed many of her skills on to me. She gave me art classes every week, making sure I didn't fall far behind. I think she felt the injustice of the way our parents treated us. They always pitted us against each other, making me feel inadequate. In the thirty years of my life, I have never beaten my sister at anything. Despite her only being a year older than me, I felt I was always at a disadvantage. Sometimes I thought she was withholding some of her knowledge from me during our classes together, to make sure she always remained slightly superior to me. When our parents passed away, my sister never reached out to me. It was as if the only reason she maintained our relationship all these years was because she needed me to quench her thirst for competition. Although she went on to sell many of her art works in the years following their death, I must say my sister’s paintings have suffered severely in quality, and her art has never been the same as it was back in the day. I snapped back into reality, where I stood silently by the lake, my paintbrush in hand, waiting to make a stroke on the canvas. I dipped it into the paint, but to my surprise, found that it had dried up. How long had I been standing here? I looked up. The sun had partly set, and stars were starting to spread across the sky. It was only morning when I set out for the lake. I suppose I got lost in thought. Sighing, I started packing up my supplies. I was so prepared for a productive day when I set out this morning. I was about to start spiraling down a road of self-hatred and doubt, when I noticed something floating in the water. I took a few steps towards the lake, expecting to find a friendly duck waiting for a bit of food. Hm, that’s a peculiar shape, I thought. No, this was no duck. As I took a breath, I noticed a sour stench in the air. I suppose the lake isn’t as clean as it used to be. People these days, with their awful littering, have no respect for the beauty of nature. I got a bit closer. Whatever it was, it had a large shadow below where it was peeking out of the water. But what was that? It looked like... A pair of legs. I realized that the large shadow was the torso of what once was a person. Feeling inspired, I smiled and began to paint.