smoke I gracy I ✔️

15

The morning sunshine peeked through my blue curtains. It's rare for this season. It's always mostly cloudy. I get ready for another 7 hours of school.

From the corner of my eye, I see Erica and Bee snickering at each other. What makes me very uneasy is that they are evidently pointing and looking at me. They don't even bother to be discreet about it.

It's just so simple to loath them, but at the same time, I quite envy them. I wish I was pretty and just for people to like me. I just have the plain dull brown hair and vomit colored green eyes. I am finally courageous enough to take a quick glance at Bee and her other friends. What I see is unbearable. As soon as I turn my head, Bee takes Zach's hand and clutches it tightly. As if signaling "He's mine. I know you like him from that video." I try to show no blues or gloominess. I turn back around to eat my sandwich like nothing ever happened.

I wince and hold my body. It feels like I've torn a muscle whenever a take a step forward. My skin is restored with new black and blue spots. Today's beating was even worse than last time. Maybe because I haven't gotten the regular beating for a month.

When I get back home, I call out for Anne but no one answers. Good. I don't want her questioning about my injured self. I hastily rush into the bathroom and take the first aid kit out of the cabinet. There is this miraculous oil that specifically treats bruises. I rub the oil over my body. It instantly removes my unendurable pain. I sigh in relief. I go back into my room and start on homework.

I scroll through my MyPage and I stumble upon Bee's page. It's decorated with black, yellow, and bees of course. My hand takes control over my actions and end up clicking on a video. It was posted 5 months ago. The date when Zach and she started dating. It was a video of Zach's Instagram pictures. Then Bee's. The last part was with her and Zach. A few were of them kissing. I slam my computer shut, set my hands on my top and rested my chin on my palms. I huff out. This is just making me feel bad.

"Love is rare, life is strange, nothing lasts, people change," I repeat this under my breath a few 20 times. This was a life lesson given by Liam. Poems and inspirational quotes were his hobbies. Anne was the artist. Zach is an artist too. He's got the creative bone in him. I have no idea if he still sketches, or if he's hanging out with is friends talking about how underrated I am. I'm the topic of every conversation. Someone has to say my name at least once at school. My eyes scroll over to a pile of free hand drew sketches and black canvases. I linger over cautiously towards a canvas. I pick it up with shaky hands and set it on the easel. I take some black, gray, and blue paint and squeeze the essence out. My hand takes hold of a brush nearby. How long was it since I painted? 6 months? A year? I shake my head, dip the brush into the paint and start to create where my imagination takes me.

Clouds, dark clouds, and rain. It is a city. In the city streets, the buildings are wrecked. A hint of vandalism. Holes on the sidewalks, ones where you can fall into the void and never find your way out. There's a girl hiding behind one of the crumpled buildings. The girl's face is pale and delicate. Her hair is straw-like. The color of dirt. Those green orbs are hollow without feeling. Her tattered clothes are covered with tints of blood. She only wore thin leggings with it.

This is how I feel. The world is someplace horrible.

"Love is rare, life is strange, nothing lasts, people change,"

"Love is rare, life is strange, nothing lasts, people change,"

"Love is rare, life is strange, nothing lasts, people change,"

"Love is rare, life is strange, nothing lasts, people change,"

"Love is rare, life is strange, nothing lasts, people change,"

"Love is rare, life is strange, nothing lasts, people change,"

"Love is rare, life is strange, nothing lasts, people change,"