literature

it all started with sally haley

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Unseen-reality
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       eight years ago i was different, i had never been loved, i had never witnessed my grey tabby moan and contract as her kittens breathed their first ounce of oxygen, and i thought that art was simply something you colored in a 20-cent coloring book. my father would've said that i was exclusively extroverted, and even a touch of arrogance would appear on the most unlikely of days.

it intensified in myself to paint. i had seen sally haley's paintings when my best friend's neighbor had been in his teenage art phase, (he had side bangs and blonde streaks that embellished his hair) and i loved the curve of her strokes, i could taste the individual fur of the brush as it paved the canvas, and i wanted to indulge and satiate in the hues.


in school, algebra and geometry nauseated me, and the triangles and squares that i scribbled howled and bellowed at me, taunting me and declaring under their breath, "you're stupid and unintelligent, why are you so afraid of numbers? you're weak, different."


there was a boy named jasper who sat next to me on the ripped seats of the yellow bus with the inked name of our school on it. he preached to me about words i should never say, because "girls are fragile" and, "he didn't want me to get in trouble." looking back now, i believed him once the words bloomed from his budding rosemary lips. i had this childish urge that solicited me to surrender to my infatuation and crawl on my knees, praying for me to secretly believe him.


he took me by my hand at the creak and awakening of dawn. it was so small and i had silver sparkling nail polish on, and his voice and face had changed drastically, he was unsure but he was so anchored by his urges that he caved in. he sat cross-legged across from me, and his face edged rapidly towards me, (he had heart shaped lips, but i hoped my own heart wasn't as deceiving) like a high speed bullet exploding from a gun, and he kissed me, full center and sloppy.


morning came and i painted a red-haired girl on the living room floor, and i smiled as i held my painting up to the light with both hands, paintbrush in between my jaws (pride and contentment in my eyes.) she had a pearl necklace and emerald green eyes, and i secretly thirsted to look like her.

jasper said a mumbling, "hello, how are you?" to my mother, and his beady eyes lit like a dusty match when he saw me. i held up my painting earnestly and he contemplated me with weary eyes, and suddenly told me he didn't think it would be worth anything. i slapped him so hard that my hand vibrated with a sting that demanded itself firmly. his cheek was crimson and i began to shiver as my eyes felt the ache of my palms, and my eyes flooded. it felt as if i had released everything that had ever bothered me before, right then and there.

sally haley wouldn't even glance at my paintings, she wouldn't even recognize an inch of talent in my strokes. i entombed myself under the covers of my twin bed, desperate and whimpering. i felt as if i had evaporated.

the sky was completely outcast as jasper stirred next to me on the bus, and i evaded his gaze as i looked onward.

it was in math when someone reached for my hand and placed theirs on mine. on a whim i had realized i was doodling aimlessly, and his eyes playfully examined my made-up portraits and two-headed dogs, and when his head lifted he stated that he had never seen anything quite like it before.
long wow
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