Navigating the whirlwind of being fifteen feels like standing on shifting sands, the vibrant canvas of childhood art now shadowed by a world that feels both too loud and too fragile. I'm finding myself increasingly drawn to capturing the quiet hum of unspoken things, even as the pressure of what comes next whispers louder than I'd like. It's a strange dance between the comfort of my sketchpad and the daunting realization that I can't draw my way out of growing up.