Colors that Speak

The world was filled with color.

Everything, was buzzing with vibrant hues.

At one small point in my life, I was part of that hectic lifestyle.

It wasn’t until my fourth year of living I had realized that all the pretty blue and yellow colors of the world around me were fading.

I had cried for several countless days.

Therapy was like my Saturday school you can say.

Every dreadful week of learning to accept that I wasn’t going to be seeing those colors any time soon.

Anyone would say that it was all too much for a small four year old to grasp. And yes, it was.

Yet I managed to suck it up.

When school came around, I refused to talk.

Hidden within the shadows of those who were busy babbling about how their parents took them to every place they could name.

My parents took me out, yes.

They gave up on trying to get me to even speak to them by grade five.

Did I feel bad? Yes.

What made it worse was knowing that they’d given up on me.

There was constant pain in my chest from holding back my cries.

When high school started, I had only managed to talk to my mother slightly. The day I spoke was the day she glowed. She was no longer staring off into deep space.

My father grew annoyed that I only spoke to mother.

He left us with no words, and no note.

All traces of him were gone before my mom could at least try to convince him to stay.

At school, I remained silent.

Unspoken rule remained between the teachers and I since before I even stepped into the classroom.

I was a smart student.

All went well, except for group projects and presentations.

Thought, again with the unspoken rule, my teachers let it slide.

Whenever a teacher walked by me, there was always that same sad glint in their eyes as if they want to hug me and tell me it’s okay.

I didn’t want that.

My only option was to turn cold.

Still being that straight A student, I stopped caring about everything else.

College was around the corner.

I was looking forward to the food.

The main reason this school was my go-to, was because of the quality of the food.

Everything served definitely topped any meal I had in high school.

It was after my first day of class that I had gotten lost in finding the cafeteria that I stumbled upon the tennis courts.

That odd melancholy feeling hit me like tidal waves during a storm.

A storm.

That’s what my brain was like at this moment.

I found myself walking closer to the empty courts.

The wind was warm, coaxing me to close my eyes and remember the late evenings I spent playing tennis with my mother.

Right then and there, a presence was beside me.

Short panic arose within me, but before I could move away the stranger spoke; in such a smooth, honey-like, deep voice.

“You seem new. You should try out for our tennis team. The boys’ season is about to start, bud!”

There was calmness in his voice, it made me feel warm.

I shook my head, thankful that he was visibly facing me.

I hadn’t seen the man yet, but from his kindness and languid voice he was handsome.

As I looked up, my thoughts were confirmed.

He was almost a foot taller than me, dark hair cascading in different directions like confused rivers. Beautiful galaxies staring into my dull, almost black, eyes.

The stranger chuckled before putting a hand on my shoulder.

He then did what no one other than my mother had ever given me in my entire life of suffering.

The boy smiled at me.

Perhaps if he knew, he wouldn’t even have looked my way.