The Truth Untold

||Past||

I found myself hiding during my free period in the garden area of the school. It had flowers blooming and tiny birds chirping. It was lively. Something that I wanted, needed, to be around. It was empty and was a good place to think. And I have a lot to think about.

I went over to the gazebo and sat down plugging in my headphones. Music is an escape, it reels you into another dimension. It's also a great way to tell people that you don't want to talk or interact with human beings. My playlist starts playing and I take out my sketchbook with a pencil. I got into college on an art scholarship since I couldn't really afford to go to college. 

Growing up my parents were druggies so asking them for money was out of the question since they would much rather spend their money to suffice their needs than to fund their own daughter's future. I remember telling my parents that I got into Blue Mountain University and they looked at me and nodded. Their eyes glazed over, clearly high and they missed a good chunk of my life. They weren't always like this however, it started when my parent's companies went bankrupt and we were in debt. 

And no I'm not talking about a couple of hundred dollars, I'm talking about thousands, maybe even tens of thousands. We moved out of our house to a smaller and dirtier place. The people around our neighborhood weren't the best and my parents found that out the hard way. This guy handed them drugs and my parents have been hooked on it since then. The first time they had it, they told me that it was a nice escape from the world. I was thinking about trying it until I saw what it turned my parents into. An escape seems nice but the drugs turned my parents into strangers. I don't want to ruin myself, to become into someone that even I can't recognize. It hurts to call my own parents, people who promised to always be with me, protect me and love me until they died. They broke their promises the moment they used drugs to try and escape from reality, from their struggles, from their mistakes, from everything that makes the human. 

My art scholarship was the only thing going for me. Drawing was my escape from life. It preoccupied my thoughts and whenever you draw you could live through them. You can release all your thoughts through the drawings and it eases your mind so much that it seeks to amaze me. When you draw characters, they are yours, you made them and you could have meaning behind each drawing. It may seem like one of the most upbeat paintings you've ever seen but in reality, it's the most depressing story. But no one knows what really is going on, no one understands your thought process because they aren't the artist. You are. 

I snapped back into reality and there were water stains on my sketchbook. I quickly wiped my eyes and all the tears treading to fall. I grabbed my pencil and started to draw letting my thoughts flow onto the paper. Stroke after stroke, minute after minute and I finally decided to look at the outcome. It was a girl and half her face was bright, happy, had on a smile but on the other side she was frowning and had crack marks on her. She was broken but had to remain nonbroken in front of everyone. I was about to rip the page out until I turned the page and drew something else. It was a little girl with her parents, they were smiling and seemed like that perfect family. There is never a perfect family. I went back to the first drawing and analyzed it. I added a shadow in the background of the broken part of her. I liked the drawing better and then I added a smirk to the shadow and when I looked at it, I broke. It reminded me of that day, the only reason why I'm as broken as I am. 

----------

"You will forever be broken don't forget that." A haughty voice whispered into my ear while taking off my clothes. 

----------

Tears were spilling and soon enough I was a sobbing mess. When I looked at the ground I saw a shadow and I immediately tensed.