It’s the question that some of my friends are asking one another, and it makes me think of myself. When did I stop drawing?

I used to draw a lot when I was a kid. I believe everyone did too, especially before people could read and write. Drawing was one of the easiest and earliest ways to create something of your own. And it was limitless, at almost no extra cost. Parents might not afford a lot of brick toys, but few mothers would ever deny their children of paper and crayons. And most importantly, no one would ever judge what a child draws. So I, like any other child, drew because my mind was freest.

Luckily I was blessed with quite a gift for drawing. It was not much, definitely nowhere near a prodigy’s talent, but enough for me to receive a number of praises. They were a big encouragement, and I kept drawing. By the end of elementary school, drawing became a way for me to tell stories — stories my best childhood friend and I fantasised of a world of heroes and villains, love and hatred.

Apparently both of us had much less time for such pointless hobbies when we were about to finish secondary school. When exams and school work took our time, they also took a proportion of freedom in our minds. Before entering the exhausting preparation for the gifted high school entrance exams, I thought myself it was time to stop drawing.

But the love for drawing was not that easy to get rid of. It found itself the way back to my life when I was in high school and dreaming that I could really go pro at it. It was the first time I got serious with drawing, and reality turned its serious harshness to me: I was far from talented enough. And if I couldn’t persuade myself and my parents, how could I sell my works?

And I stopped drawing. For quite a long time. I did not settle with a career path, but I was certain that drawing would not be involved.

I had a boyfriend, I had more friends to hang out with, more interests to get immersed in. And the Internet and social media also had their ways to make everybody lazier. If drawing could simply be a way to entertain me, it also had to compete with a lot of other stuff.

Funny how I could never really stop drawing. Every once in a while, I found myself take a pen and create a reflection. Either of what I saw or what I thought I would see. The hiatuses I took in between varied, could be up to two years.

The last time I drew would have been two years ago if yesterday I hadn’t draw again. One more time, I found my way back to drawing. It is so like a childhood crush.

Or a symbol of hope and dream, which people had plenty of when they were young and free, and then have it go up and down throughout their maturity.

Which makes a better resemblance, childhood crush or hope and dream? Depends on which is more quittable. But it doesn’t matter to decide anyways.

Because it is important to keep drawing, to keep a little piece of childhood, or hope, or dream.

Because I know how important it is to me.