𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 [𝚂𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚂𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜]

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗔𝗿𝘁𝗶𝘀𝘁

𑀇𑀇𑀇𑀇𑀇𑀇𑀇𑀇𑀇𑀇𑀇𑀇𑀇𑀇𑀇𑀇𑀇𑀇𑀇𑀇𑀇𑀇𑀇𑀇𑀇𑀇𑀇𑀇𑀇𑀇𑀇𑀇
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I still remember the time when I met him. He was so quiet that nobody could see his presence. However, I noticed him, sitting down on his seat as he drew something on the back of his notebook. I was so curious of what he was drawing, that's why I decided to take a peek. I was so mesmerized with his work, they looked beautiful.

Ever since that day, I would always sit beside him to look at his artwork. I always wonder how he could create such amazing picture without breaking a sweat.

We were not close with each other, we're not even friends. But strangely, we feel comfortable with one another. We stayed like that, for weeks. Just giving each other a company without saying anything.

❝ 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵? ❞

Surprisingly, he was the one who started our conversation. His voice was so soothing, it would make someone feel calm.

He looked at me, wearing a soft smile on his face. He started talking about his artworks and what was the story behind it. I listened to every word he said. I love the way he conveys his story. He looked so passionate with his hobby.

We started getting closer to each other. I was so shocked to know that we live on the same neighborhood. We would always talk about many things. We would do our home works together.

We were having fun with each other's company. Being friends with him was fun. But there was something that bothers me. Even though we were always together, he always seems sad.

His eyes would always soften as he stared at our surroundings. He would always get lost on his own thoughts, it was like he was in a different world.

He looked like someone who experienced a lot of things in life. He was so mature despite our young age. He tend to have that kind of nature. He was someone who understand and accept everything that happened on his life.

People can't understand, they don't try to understand him. They would always mock him with his flaws. They would always insult him for not being able to walk. They would always insult him with everything.

I feel bad. My heart was feeling so heavy whenever they did those actions. It was very painful knowing that he was being bullied by something that he didn't even choose to have. He was born like that.

Whenever I asked him if he was alright, he would always answer:

❝  𝘐'𝘮 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦. ❞

But I knew that he was lying because I witnessed everything. I knew everything, he would always act strong. He tend to keep his feelings to himself.

I would always think, Am I not reliable? Why won't he tell me anything? Why won't he open up to me? I want to help him.

That's why, I persevered. I did my best to make him feel loved. I always did my best to make him happy. To release his stress from his own family. To make him feel important.

Then finally, he opened up. He told me everything, down to small details in his life. Just like how he drew his artworks, he told me his story behind his facade.