True Colours

① Friends

Jayden

I think art can be many things. It's not just oil paintings, pencil sketches or pictures. Art can be anything. Art is typically feelings and thoughts, at least for me. I use art to express the things in my head, that I can't talk about. Sometimes I wonder if I'm the only person in this entire universe, who feels that way.

"You should seriously consider submitting one of your recent pieces to that competition next Friday, Jayden."

Not again. The words, the voice, the goddamn attitude. Hadn't I told her a million times? I didn't want to compete against others, and I wasn't even that serious about my art. Why did adults always have so many expectations, like come on?
"Not really tempted, mum," I muttered, staring down at my plate, the bland blob of mashed potatoes looking even more unappetizing now.
"It would be a great chance to make new friends, and you will definitely discover other people's art styles," she assured, giving me one of her warm smiles. I picked at the carrots, which I had sorted away from the mashed potatoes to the other side of the plate, but I didn't eat any.

Oh, so this is what it was about? I thought.
- She wanted me to make friends. It's not like I didn't have any friends, I wasn't lonely. I guess my mum just didn't really like my friends. I understood her. They probably were a bad influence on me. I had started smoking because of them, though I didn't do it much, when I was just by myself. Alone. Hidden away. I wasn't the same as my friends in many ways, but I was fine with it, really.

"Yeah, I guess." I shrugged, and pushed my plate away. "I'm not hungry, I'll eat later."

"Fine, just promise me you'll think about joining the competition." My mom sighed. Her eyes followed me, as I stood up and started to walk up the stairs.

"I promise," I said, hurrying up to my room.

I laid down on my bed, hiding under my weighted duvet. Hidden away from the world and my mum's stupid expectations.
My phone buzzed. I sighed, but picked it up, kicked my duvet off and rolled onto my stomach. I seriously didn't want to talk to anyone right now.

19:27

📳

Nathan🕷️:
Meet by the swings ?🚬

💬 📞 🔇 🔊

Ah shit. What was I supposed to reply? 'Oh no, my mum doesn't want me to, she says smoking is bad for me. I don't have any social-energy left, anyway.'

No fucking way. Did you really think, that I was going to send that? My fingers swiftly moved over the keyboard. I tried to write a reply, that seemed convincing, but my brain was fried, and I couldn't come up with any good excuses, as to why I couldn't go. I placed my phone down, waited a bit, then decided to just click 'send' on the latest excuse I had written.

19:35

Can't. I don't feel well, might be sick. Tty tomorrow?

Was he actually going to believe that?
My phone buzzed again, and I groaned, as the bright light from the screen blinded me in my dark room. I blinked, then tried to focus on the words in the message I had gotten.

19:36

📳

Nathan🕷️:
Rest up, okay? Tty tomorrow man!🤟

💬 📞 🔇 🔊

Oh, guess he did believe me.

I kept spiraling about joining that competition, and it didn't exactly help, when my mum decided to just burst into my room, announcing that there were other lgbtq-artists joining.