True Colors

Chapter One: Introducing Joseph

The days seem to be getting less gloomy every day, but it's just not satisfying enough. I could still feel the cold bruises on my skin and I could still hear my younger sister crying. Don't get me wrong, I'm thankful I'm out of my misery and living what I like to call, a new life. Because I truly do believe I'm living a new life.

My name is Joseph. I'm Fourteen years old and not too long ago, I was living in an abusive household with my younger sister. I can remember it like it was yesterday, but I really do try my best not to. Thankfully, I can almost say I'm living my life with ease. I don't have to worry about making sure I have  food on my plate nor do I have to worry about getting beaten up for talking back.

Now all I ever really do worry about is my sister. Every night before I go to bed, I wonder how she's doing or who is with her. My sister is in the hospital. She has been there for quite a while and I really do miss her. She is three years younger than me, making her eleven. I won't go into full detail on what happened to her, because like I said, I'm trying my best not to remember my "previous life". Let's just remember my abusive father and my sister crying, I'm sure you'll understand.

You know that one kid in school that nobody likes because they're such party poopers and don't talk to anyone? That will be me, except it's not that I don't like talking to people, I'm just extremely awkward and well, people just don't fucking talk to me. My school isn't too far from where I live, but I always go to school late because I'm just not much of a morning person. The only good thing about Todd Inglewood High School is that you get to choose what classes you want; you can't make all your classes just art. English and Math are mandatory for everyone to take every year.
I share all my classes with this guy named Michael and this girl name Lady that I believe is his girlfriend. Her name is legitimately Lady. I don't think I've ever met someone named Lady, though I do hope to meet Lady Gaga someday.

I'm not even gonna lie, Michael is quite attractive; I really like looking at him. He's definitely taller than me and has eyes that I really don't even know the color to. Some days they look grey, but other times, I swear they're a dark green. He wears these glasses that probably only he can pull off.

I always catch myself checking him out as he passes by. I really don't mind the fact that he's a guy.

First period is always the worst. It's filled with rude, annoying people, but then there's him. I feel like I look at him just a little too much in class that people start to notice. I remember a group of guys confronted me about it once. They mentioned Michael and shamed me for always "looking at him strangely" in class. One of them punched me in the face while another one kicked me in the stomach. About thirty seconds later, I hear someone. "Hey, leave him alone. What the hell is wrong with you guys?" One of the boys let go of me. "Have you even seen the way this little queer has been looking at you lately?" Michael laughed, "Why are you mad, though? Is it jealousy?" The boy glared at him, "I'm not a faggot." They eventually left, leaving me and Michael all by ourselves. He helped me up and told me if I was okay.

Now here's the thing about me, I suffer from SAD, most commonly known as Social Anxiety. You may hear that from many people and may think it's either not a big deal or just a cry for attention, but it's actually something that ruins many opportunities for myself and others. If it wasn't for my SAD, I probably might have some friends by now.

Right after Michael asked me if I was okay, I froze. I started mumbling and making a complete fool of myself. I just gave him a quick nod and ran out. It was such a rude and foolish thing to do, now that I think about it.

Since I don't really talk to anyone, my best friend is my little notebook that I carry around with me everywhere I go. And no, it's not a death note, although I really wish it was. I like drawing and writing morbid things in my notebook. I like the idea of someone looking at my notebook someday and thinking I'm a complete psychopath. You know, maybe my notebook and a death note aren't too different after all. I'm sure any mentally stable human being will get at least a bit uncomfortable looking at either one of them.

I also like writing really depressing poems, also known as, my life. My notebook is someone I can just vent to over and over again, and it won't judge me. My foster mom wants to take me to a therapist to help me let go of the past. I really hope my therapist is as understanding as this notebook of mine. I don't like the idea of therapy. I don't see the point of it.

Here's another thing about me, I really like climbing trees. I used to do it a lot with the tree in my old house when I was a kid. It was an apple tree that was actually my neighbor's tree but I claimed it as mine. I would always climb on this huge branch and cry on it whenever my father would fight with my mother. Other times, I would just take naps on it, because who needs beds anyways?

It was after school, twenty minutes past three. My school has a tree that reminds me a lot like the tree from my childhood, except it doesn't have apples or any fruits on it. I was sitting down on a giant tree branch, writing on my notebook and from the corner of my eye, I could see a couple. It didn't take me long to realize it was Michael and Lady. I just stared at them, my eyes filled with envy. I didn't know what I was more envious of, the thought of two people being in love, or Lady kissing a guy I seem to kind of...admire. It's probably both.

I don't think they saw me, but since they were so close to where I was at, I decided to just go to another tree that wasn't as pleasant as the one I usually climbed on. I could still see them from this tree, but at least it wasn't as close as the previous one. Right when I was about to take a deep breath and relax, I realized I dropped a piece of paper on the other tree. I literally felt like I was gonna die.

After a few minutes of having a panic attack on top of a tree, I finally calmed down, except it was too late to calm down. When I looked back at Michael, he was by himself, already reading the sheet of paper from the tree. I could see the uneasy facial expression on his face.

He seemed like someone who was mentally stable, so I'm sure he would probably think of me as a freak for the rest of his life if he ever found out it was me that wrote everything I was feeling in that sheet of paper. I wasn't really in the mood to be here anymore after this whole incident, so I decided to go home. Right as I start walking, I heard a voice saying "Hey, you!"

Oh, fuck. He started coming closer, and closer. When he finally caught up to me, he told me in the most gentle voice ever, "I believe you dropped something, here you go." I hesitated but then replied with a shaky voice, "That's not mine." He looked at me, not convinced with my lie, "I read it. I understand if you don't want to admit it's actually yours." I sighed, my body still kind of shaking. I slowly took the sheet of paper from him and started walking again.