Yellow || hs au

|45|

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My sketchbook sits lonely and untouched in my lap as I stare out at the wide open space in of Central Park. It's the end of March now and the weather is much nicer and mid fifty's daily. The trees are slowly beginning to get their seeds back and the grass is becoming greener by the day. It's nice.

I only have two weeks left to finish my project for Mrs. Kay about my emotions and the deep parts of me I've never discovered before. I'm sort of lost. I have no clue how to dig that deep into my own feelings and frankly I'm not sure if I even want to. I know I'm happy, but recently I haven't really felt like myself, I'm not sure why.

I roll my lips into my mouth, drawing in a long breath of the fresh air. I'm still bundled in a hoodie and jeans, it's still chilly out but it's nice enough to walk around now. I chew the inside of my lip, watching the people littered through out the grass.

There's multiple people out having picnics and hanging out, some are reading and one guy has a guitar. But the family of three catches my eye. The dad is tall and lean with a small belly and the mom is small with dark hair and a contagious smile. Their little girl is maybe four and has pig tails in her hair that are messy and worn in. The dad throws an orange frisbee for their golden retriever who runs off leash with its tongue hanging out of the side of its mouth and its tail going insane behind it. They seem incredibly happy.

I watch the man wrap his arms around the woman from behind, a laugh escaping her lips as the little girl goes running towards them, attacking their legs causing all three to tumble to the ground, their legs flailing in the air.

I smile instinctively, the dog pouncing around them gracefully which makes the small girl laugh and giggle loudly. I remember when my family was happy, I was that little girls same age. I adored my father with everything I had, I loved him. My mom was so good with me, I never wanted to leave their sides. And then it all just stopped. They stopped loving me.

My father stopped picking me up and tugging my pony tails because he knew I hated it when he did that. He stopped poking my sides so I'd squirm around and laugh until my stomach hurt. He stopped letting my paint his nails and do his hair like a princess.

My mother stopped letting me walk in her high heels. She stopped letting me lick the cake batter off of the beaters when she was finished with them. She stopped painting with me out in the yard when the weather was nice. She stopped telling me I could do anything I set my mind to.

My heart beats loudly in my chest, a lump growing in my throat as I watch the family gather their things and begin to leave the park. I chew the inside of my cheek as I pull my attention away from the family and I instead close my sketchbook and push it into my bag, deciding that this isn't the place that I need to find myself in.

I've been 'soul searching' since twelve when I got out of my English which was a full lecture today with overwhelming notes for the upcoming test. I haven't been doing well in my English class seeing as my paper grades keep going down every time I turn one in. And with those being one of the only things my professor grades besides our ten points for showing up, I'm failing.

I've been so caught up with myself lately, trying to manage art and figuring out this fucking project and how to really make a statement, next to spending time with Harry and making sure he's doing well. All of a sudden things just seem ten times harder. Simple things at that. Like getting out of bed in the morning.