By Kayla Zilch
I was daydreaming in church yesterday, and I finally put my finger on it. This empty, resonate feeling I’ve been carrying around in my chest since the sudden, necessary departure of the man I’ve been dating.
The feeling of being seen by many, but not really known. Breakups throw you into a spotlight of sorts, if only for a brief moment - your pain the momentary object of your circle’s curiosity, and your brokenness is center-stage, stumbling and shameful, without anything to cover itself with.
The feeling of desiring to be fought for, chosen, sacrificed for – but looking around and finding the object of your passionate adoration gone, moved on.
Have you ever been to an art gallery, and noticed the two types of people occupying the space? You've got the casual tourists, drifting from painting to painting, snapping iPhone photos and never more than twenty feet beyond their pack of friends. They're there to pass time, to have an experience.
Then, there are the artists.
These people aren’t in a hurry. They pause at one painting for several minutes, and either stand too close or too far back, trying to see the painting in its larger context before leaning in and counting the brushstrokes.
Artists don't simply come to admire - they recognise the painting as a manifestation of the same creativity woven into the tapestry of their own souls.
They can understand art intimately, because they, too, are art.
But most people you'll want approval from, or fall in love with, are tourists.
You'll exist to show them something, maybe get a few photos, and then remain long after they've gone home and Insta'd the best one.
Wait for the artist.
Better yet, wait for that one art romantic willing to trade tens of thousands of dollars to take you and make you a permanent part of their life, the person eager to look at you every day, who believes your presence won't diminish with repeated viewing.
The preacher said one thing that pinned me: "Don't adopt an external form because you don't know who you were created to be." Admiration is the emotion furthest from understanding.
If you're not accepted wholly now, one day, you will be.
There's nothing wrong with you. Your strength creates space. Your form is lovely. You're more than something to be admired. You deserve to be known and chosen, over and over again.
Wait for the artist.