It was always, “that face is too wide”, or “the nose seems a little bit off”. After weeks of critique, after critique, I finally broke down. Tears started to roll down my face and onto my paper, blurring my vision and my hope of finally conquering facial figures. It was when my instructor comforted me when I could see again. I was able to see the path again, leading me to my goal. Every critique suddenly turned into a guide that lead me towards my goal. Every tear stain left on my paper gave me a reason to keep moving forward. To not fail. To not give in. Not on my senior year, the last chance that I have to leave my mark on my school before making it again elsewhere. I wiped my eyes with my sleeve, picked up my pencil, and went back to