When the Grey Fades

For as long as she could remember, the world had been grey.

Not in the literal sense-colours still existed, but they never reached her. They hung in the air like forgotten dreams, dull and distant, as though someone had taken all the brightness from them and left only muted shadows behind. Every morning, she woke up to the same silence in her chest, the kind that made laughter feel like an echo from another life. When she was 14, she had discovered that she is romantically into females.

Her name was Jennifer Claré. Sixteen. Tired. A little too good at pretending.

She moved through days like a ghost: present, but not alive. Teachers spoke, but their words felt like static. Friends smiled, but their joy slipped right past her. She often wondered if anyone could see how the cracks inside her were widening. Or if they even cared.

But what Jen didn't know was that change doesn't always roar in like a storm. Sometimes, it begins quietly-with a glance, a sound, a sentence that sticks. And sometimes, the first colour to return is not a bright, burning red or a joyful yellow, but something softer. Something like hope.

This is the story of how Jen found that colour.

TW: depression.