Chapter 1: The Hidden Writer

Reflecting on my life, I now ponder whether my true passion lies in writing rather than in the visual arts, drawing, or music, as I have repetitively asserted throughout the years. It feels almost like a mantra; I thought that by saying it often enough, it would eventually materialize.

As a child, my aspiration was clear—I wanted to be a writer, not an artist. Although I never had a fervent ambition or a defined career path, writing was the one dream I held dear. Unfortunately, this aspiration was never nurtured or acknowledged, instead overshadowed by unspoken constraints.

This dynamic illustrates how my mother's narcissistic and controlling nature subtly influenced me, often in ways that seemed innocuous or even supportive. It created a situation where I struggled to forge my identity, as I was often shaped by her desires rather than my own. It felt as though she was trying to merge my identity with hers, essentially reversing the process of creation—swallowing me back into her own existence.

Dizzyingly, I came to believe that I was meant to be an artist, a notion ingrained in me throughout my childhood. “You want to be an artist,” my mother would insist, dismissing my own declarations. Whenever I voiced my true desire, I was deemed irrational or accused of deliberately trying to hurt her feelings. This manipulation was subtle yet powerful, pushing me into a mold that aligned with her own experiences and preferences.

Her artistic pursuits in college shaped her expectations of me; my achievements in art were a source of pride for her—a way for her to vicariously live through my talents. When I showcased my early artistic skills—drawing everything from horses to dragons—it fed her ego. I was never truly seen as her child but rather as a means to fulfill her own aspirations.

Art for her was not a medium for expression but rather a means to distinguish the "talented" from the "unworthy." If I demonstrated any skill, it became a reflection of her success as a parent. However, my writing, which she could not comprehend, was a domain where she had no claim.

Indeed, in my youth, I dreamt of being a writer. “I want to be a writer,” I would scribble in my notebooks during elementary school. Yet my mother would counter, “You want to be an artist.” My protests fell on deaf ears, but these six words—“I want to be a writer”—echoed the essence of my childhood dreams.

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Section 1.1: The Artistic Expectations

The expectations placed upon me were not only stifling but also deeply confusing. My mother’s insistence that I pursue art overshadowed my genuine interests. This manipulation created a sense of duality within me—torn between the desire to please her and the yearning to explore my own identity.

Subsection 1.1.1: The Vicarious Artist

Chapter 2: Embracing My Identity

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