"I'm afraid you may not be able to draw again."

The words of the doctor were dead weight on Irene's mind.

"The results of the test show strongly that you have an essential tremor that causes the shaking in your hands."

Irene gripped the medical report tightly, sliding herself down the wall, the gasps between her sobs echoing throughout her luxurious home.

Luxurious, but empty.

"Korea's art diva diagnosed with essential tremor."

Irene could just see the headlines coming and snickered at the thought. Just what would the world think of that? Of her being unable to draw? Sure she was an inspiration for many, but she was also watched carefully by the vultures of the industry. Sadly, as much as art was something closely dependent on feelings, there were people in this line who only cared about fame and counted down to the days that Irene would be outed. It was already a hefty sum of money in order for her to have kept her appointments with the specialist a secret. She had a reputation to keep no matter what.

Irene didn't know when her condition would deteriorate. For it seemed from research and reading, it could only maintain or get worse. There was no cure for essential tremors, only suppressants.

Of course, after weeks of false beliefs and reassurances that she was going to be alright, Irene finally caved in to her true emotions and took the blow harshly upon herself. She started smashing every of her framed masterpieces, cutting her hands in her rampage. Her hands trembled as she bled and it hurt; although definitely not more painful than the wounds in Irene's heart.

Art was her life but she couldn't do it anymore.

She had wanted so much to prove to everyone that she was worth way more than she seemed to them. That she wasn't just that "girl who got into art school because she was pretty and probably pulled some strings."

Irene had made it into the top art school because of her talent and she was hell-bent on making it out with an even greater impression, even if everyone else felt otherwise. Irene earned her keep from museums, exhibitions, collaborations, selling her work to curators and art collectors who fell in love with her masterpieces; making a name for herself in a short span of 5 years. Granting her the luxurious life she lived in now.
Yet all of that would be but history the moment she discovered the start of her condition.

Irene had been on the rooftop, sketching skyscrapers when she first noticed that her straight lines appeared to be squiggly; almost as if she did not have a steady grip on the pencil. It was a strange occurrence, seeing how Irene was known to be a walking compass, protractor and ruler in one. Hard work accompanied with her talent and the desire to keep improving had determined that title remained so having a squiggly line was just absurd but Irene brushed it off as probably having overworked her body with bare minimum sleep over the course of 4 days. Little did she know that it was merely the start of something much more unfortunate.

After months of hiatus, Irene had finally sorted out her thoughts. She wasn't someone who gave up easily, which was how she made it where she is today. It wasn't her hands that brought her where she was. It was her mind, and her heart.

Even if she couldn't physically do art anymore, her passion for a