watercolours

a/n: This one's kind of a description of how I write. Or, better yet, how I've been writing. Last spring was truly a moment in which I began to write differently. In the past, I wrote very rarely about my own experiences. Although I have always been incorporated events that I have gone through, they were never the main event of what I wrote. They were maybe a fond memory of mine, or ways in which I was bullied, or a fear that I have, but never until spring had I ever taken a feeling, sat with it, broke it into a million pieces, and with those pieces create a mosaic of different circumstances in which I felt that way and then have a finished product that was more sentimental than what I had ever written before. Soon enough, I'd started to write MANY poems. I'd finish at least a notebook, writing everywhere I could. Anyways, 'watercolours' is about how I write.

13th August 2025

watercolours

I used to paint in watercolours, now I sketch in shades of grey. I'd never seen it coming. But I guess we all have to experience the teenage years somehow. To break down a conversation until you're not even sure what was said. Maybe it was all in my head and I just looked too much into it. Not everyone speaks in code, sometimes people just say the words they mean, no need to look for some deeper meaning. It's funny how you sometimes may speak the same language as someone and you still don't understand them. Maybe I'd understand it better if we spoke in some foreign language. I can never quite read the room. I'm always an outsider. I can never tell when people like me, or when they don't. I've been spending my whole life chasing some dumb ideals that only exist in TV shows.

To be in a room full of people and still be alone. To smile and cracking jokes while thinking to yourself "I want to go home." To look at how everyone is looking at you like they can't wait for you to finally leave, like you've no right to be there. To feel so deeply connected to some stranger after years of feeling like you'll never be the person someone actively seeks out to talk to. To turn that person into a fairytale to the point that you're no longer sure if what you remember is what truly went down.

I don't claim to know what's actually happening whenever I am out in public, and now in the mystical land that is my bedroom. I don't know what my classmates think about me. I just know that I think they don't like me. I don't know if he liked me. I know I liked it when we were talking. I don't know if I'm a good writer. I just know that I need to write in order to survive.

And all these things that I don't know, I put them into a fictional world. Not 100% what happened, but never far from the truth.

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