Mizpah

A father is walking his daughter to school, it’s her first day of kindergarten. The small girl is excited to start school as she continues to jump around her father and tells her father in what she imagines her first day will be. He nods in support of her vision.

When they were close to the school’s playground and the girl begs her father to walk from school. He agrees, reaching eye level to his daughter to kiss her head. Handing her red backpack with matching lunchbox.

The daughter grabs her items from her father. She soon walks away from her father, ready to see what school is going to be like. Turning back to see her father is still waiting for his daughter to enter school, she smiles and waves farewell.

Young girl enjoy her time, she made new friends there and lots of them. She couldn’t count them as everyone in her grade want to be her friend. Everyone enjoys her bright aura and loves to learn as she’s the brightest student her grade. That was in her primary years, the girl is named Nezzera.

~~

Nezzera has gone through her primary years, graduating to her elementary years. She’s the same but her friend count has decreased significantly, but she has enough friends to keep her happy. Learning is one of her priorities and is laid back a bit on her school work. Her status on being number one in the grade went down to the top ten.

Nezzera has an extreme imagination, picturing anything in her power. It made her happier. She owns an abundance of stuff animals and plays with them too. Her last year of her elementary school, she felt a little odd, she brushes it off. Nezzera is going to be excited to a Catholic School over the summer. She’s ecstatic to participate in the church as her religion peaked an interest.

~~

After finishing her summer schooling, Nezzera is going through her middle school years. Her bright attitude has toned down a bit and she’s shyer than before. Her friends have decreased again due to having different classes from each other in the beginning of Middle School, she’s optimistic for the years coming.

She loves her class in the second and third year of Middle School, but the same feeling has returned from the fifth grade. It was extreme sadness in the middle of her second year and is soon cover up by false happiness, it hurt Nezzera a lot. When no one is looking, she cries.

Her last year in the middle school is fairly calm, she felt alone with a friend, who have nothing in common with her.

Sadness and bitterness didn’t mix well and Nezzera soon finds out that she’s going to Catholic School again. Confessing pent-up anger doesn’t help as the priest keep saying pray to God, forgive people for their wrongdoings, and turn over a new leaf with them. Nezzera believes those methods will not work for her anymore, she clearly sees no one likes her.

Nezzera is annoying.

Does she know any other emotion other than happiness?

She’s just being nice so the teachers won’t see her as a troublemaker.

Nezzera is fake, she’s a liar.

She’s just a waste of space.

Nezzera is such a child.

That is what she felt. She thinks so negatively of herself and she can’t stop. Why didn’t she goes to her parents? She felt embarrassed to tell their child being bullied, so she stayed silent. The bullying has died down, but people forgot about her except for few. Some have found her quite annoying like the rest and slowly, they ignore her leaving her mute.

Recently, Nezzera has started going to high school, not like an ordinary high school, everyone went to the same school she went. It is a Christian School, making Nezzera hate her life even more. She still has friends to get through the years, she knew they’re only staying by her side because they felt sorry for her. Once attend the school, everyone is different, she didn’t suspect any less, her previous peers have greeted her time from time. She did the same but grew wary soon turning into paranoia wanting her to slip up and spread it like wildfires. That paranoia made her turn numb, she rarely feels happiness, only despair.

This girl sounds quite pitiful, right? That girl is me. Nezzera is me and I am Nezzera. This is my last call for help in endless agony.

Jolting up from a dream… more like a nightmare. I could feel sweat all over my body. Taking notice of my surroundings to find myself to be in Art class. Isn’t this the ninth dream in a row and how long I’ve been asleep? The class is having a discussion about Il était une fois, a painting by Rossano Colombo. He has more popularity than Yana Lum as he started painting realistically at the age of ten, some sources claim. Sadly, he wasn’t able to make into his early 20s. Il était une fois is one his final paintings Rossano would ever create.

The painting has a girl with yellowish skin, wavy black hair, and brown eyes. She comes from Asian Descent. Laying down on the ground with an assortment of Marigolds, Red Dahlias, Yellow Tulips, and a Purple Violets intertwining their vines around her arms, legs, and neck from a high angle. In the same angle, her facial expression is unfazed by the vines and have a red admiral butterfly covering her mouth.

Some might say the painting has something to do with the war in 1811. Representing future generations living in peace with nature, but I have doubts about the interpretation of Il était une fois, at least it isn’t confusing like Yana Lum’s most popular paints Senectitude and Habromania.

“Everyone, today we’ll be doing a series,” my Art teacher tells the class, “it’s call Nefelibata. Use the word’s meaning to create a painting is similar to the definition.” That’s easy enough to do. Nothing but teen youth and angst will work with the series, I’m pretty sure this series will depict it perfectly.

The transition bell rings signaling everyone to go to your next area. For me it’s lunchtime, it means I can work on a rough draft for Nefelibata. I already have couple ideas to summit into the series.

Sketching furiously on a piece of paper to make a portrait of this person, but it isn’t coming out well and I’m starting to doubt my art skill. Don’t worry Nezzera, this is the first attempt later on when it comes to painting it with… well paint. Not sure what type I should use, I’ll eventually know or I should ask the Art teacher about their opinion.

“Excuse me,” an unfamiliar voice trying to get my attention. I look up to see a guy. I haven’t seen him before. He’s a transfer a student, “can you show me where this class is at?” He shows me his schedule. He’s looking for the History hall, I’m pretty sure he passed the hall.

Standing up where I was sitting, “To be frank, I’m not good at giving verbal direction,” I confess, “I could walk you there physically is what I could.”

“I would like that,” he told me, “before I forget. What is your name? I would like to address you properly.” How kind of him, it feels quite genuine.

“Let’s start walking,” I tell him and start walking ahead of him, the transfer student soon follows behind.

Don’t give into his kindness, Nezzera! You don’t know this person, he might be with them to get dirt on me or have heard about my reputation and pity me like the rest. I hate people like him, but it’s the right thing to do help others. With this action, his current opinion of me might change.

I smile at my new peer, “Nezzera is the name and yours?” I return the question.

“Never heard that name before,” he commented on my name. Usually, you don’t judge people based on their names. I think he’s doing that right now, “I must apologize for my rudeness. My name is Krishna, nice to be your acquaintance Nezzera.”

“Thank you for complimenting my name,” I told him. I soon stop at the door, “while we talk I taken you to your History teacher’s classroom if you don’t mind,” as I give a hand gesture to the same door.

“It felt like a short walk, to be honest,” Krishna expresses how long the route is, “because I was enjoying our conversation,” rubbing his neck out of embarrassment… or I think it’s out of embarrassment. I’m not very confident of knowing the different emotions I used to have and if it is the embarrassment emotion, I could relate to it the most. I think when I was younger, I use to feel this emotion when it doesn’t go as plan… man, I hate those moments, “hey, can I tell you something?”

“Umm, sure,” I said not giving much of a thought. Just want to get this over.

He pauses, “you’re not well liked here… aren’t you? Why is that?”

Should’ve known this would happen. On the way, everyone was glaring at the both of us, mostly me. For sure I thought Krishna wouldn’t notice the heavy atmosphere, I underestimated his intelligence… I should stop doing that. I may lose a chance to make at least a friend this year.

“Eh,” I shrug, “people are assholes and can do nothing on their opinion on me. They just created an enemy for no reason. To combat their stupidity, I fight them with silent. My enemies look for my weakness, why would I throw myself like that?”

My response to Krishna made him cringed a little, “Sorry for asking… just I never knew it hurt you that much… that was quite a passionate response I heard from someone.”

“Why do I bother opening up to a stranger I met a few minutes ago,” I mumble.

“What was that?”

I couldn’t hold it in anymore… it hurt so much, “Why do I bother!” I shout at him. All could Krishna could is to retract his body, “if it bothers you so much, find the psychological explanation why they’re torturing me this way?!” Tears soon stream down my face, my expression didn’t change. My resting face and tears are present, “Silence is worse than physical and verbal abuse!” I try to wipe my tears away but more continues to flow out as I collapsed on my knees. I hate showing weakness in front of people.

For some reason, it relieved some stress I’ve been keeping it in for a while. It’s hard to be a human being with emotion. Am I even human? … it doesn’t matter, right now I can breathe for a while without any stress.

I can feel Krishna’s hand on my back. What is he trying to do? Comfort me? If it is, he should stop! I don’t need pity from anyone! Please leave me alone! “You’ve been strong for too long. I’m here to help.”

After that meltdown is over, Krishna has introduced me to a therapist. It’s awfully nice for him to do that for me. He even expands my friend group a little bit by one person. That one person is his girlfriend, Aoife. He notices I’ve been missing some feminine hormones in my life and here she is.

I should be thankful for him doing this to me. He could have left me in the dark like everyone else. Thanks to that renewed motivation, I’m able to make a small portrait drawing the upper body of a boy in my spare time.

He’s one of the prettiest boys I ever drew and color in my lifetime. He’s looking into the left, giving him a mysterious feel to him and I wanted him to look attractive as possible but make him look consensual.

First, the physical appearance of the boy. He has smooth pale skin with light golden brown hair in a two-block cut but its parted in the middle and his bangs are curled inward. His eyes are an amber, a pretty common eye color. I could’ve colored his eyes brown, but I think it’s too generic. The clothes are inspired by queer fashion in a way. He got three chokers, two thin ones and a very thick in choker with a moonstone in the middle, I intentionally draw him with one snake bite. His top is what I’m proud of drawing as it was the most difficult to draw. A white off-shoulder flowy blouse with a brown cardigan to accentuate the feminine side of him.

I should add him in the painting alongside with the rough draft of the person I made three months ago.