Colors

Chapter Three : Ripples of Change

Inspiration feels so nice guys (•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑.

                 ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Before I knew it, I was enrolled in school, having not been for sometime now. You may think it was out of the kindness in the old crows heart and that would be complete nonsense, considering it could be debated on whether she had a heart to begin with. My education started thanks to the men in blue twisting the old lady's hand to actually let me go. For a while, I thought lady luck was finally smiling down at me. What a fool I was. The crone had me beat almost everyday, sometimes she'd even take part. A smile always edged into the wrinkly aging sack she called a face. The worst part was, all my evidence of abuse always magically  “vanished”. My scars screamed and itched under my tunic tops and jumper bottoms. I guess with all abusers, they have one thing in common, they know how to hide their handy work. Well the “smart” ones do at least and I throw around the word smart loosely, compare it to me calling a dwarf the tallest elf. It holds little to no weight. 

Thankfully, In the midst of the darkness that seemed to cloak every aspect of my life, there was a glimmer of hope, a beacon of light that pierced through the shadows. Her name was Mrs. Henson, my English teacher. She was unlike anyone I had ever encountered before. Her warm smile and genuine interest in her students made her stand out in a sea of indifference. The first white lady that didn't look at me with eyes of contempt. She had eyes that didn't see me as competition, they saw me just as I was, a child. 

Mrs. Henson saw something in me that I had long forgotten existed - potential. She encouraged me to express myself through writing, to channel my thoughts and emotions onto paper. At first, I was hesitant. What could my words possibly achieve in a world that seemed determined to silence me?But Mrs. Henson being the person she is, persisted, gently nudging me out of my comfort zone. She introduced me to poets and authors who looked like me, who spoke to the struggles and triumphs of people like us. Their words resonated with me in a way I never thought possible. I was in turmoil. An Internal battle with my inner critic and me, a worthy fight considering we're one in the same.

Everytime I met these strong people I would look back on my life and I'd end up pondering ‘ why couldn't I be like that?’, ‘ why was I so pathetically helpless to change my destiny unlike them who were so strong in the face of adversity?’ .. ‘Why can't I be like them?’ Then it hit me, I could be like them. In fact, I already had one foot out the door with Mrs. Henson. Why couldn't I change my life? And with that I picked up a pen and paper. Writing and scribbling anything I could with the little freedom I had.With each poem I penned, each story I crafted, I felt a weight lifting off my shoulders.

After that, writing became my sanctuary, a safe haven where I could be unapologetically myself. No longer did I feel the need to conform to society's narrow standards of beauty and worth. I was going to be me and I was going to change MY world. Starting with my financial situation. 

               ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Guys can you believe this is already at chapter 3? I know it's not going to seem like much but I wrote all of this today and I'm feeling better proud of myself because I was just gonna sleep after work but here I am hehe!

Personally, it's been hard to write with all the writers block I'd been feeling lately, so this all means a lot to me to be able to write this much!