Flightless

Blended

A blank canvas stood before me as I sat staring absentmindedly at it. I blinked a few times and shifted my gaze down to my palette, hoping to regain my consciousness. To be greeted by a variation of bright pigments was me on any regular day. However, today was strangely different. It had just dawned on me how blind my body was plausibly moving to have blended such a dull color.

My eyes were met by the timeless and practical color of mere gray. If today was like my any other days, the gray that I was inspecting would at least be described as a cool, neutral, well complimented and balanced color. There was even a saying that a mere color can speak to the soul in a thousand different ways. Dejectedly, it had spoken to me in a flat and emotionless manner. It had perceived that my shade of the day was quite dreadful. In fact, it was more lifeless.

I gave in a breathy sigh and thought back at how I ended up with such bottled emotion during my favorite arts class. Words clouded my mind until it formed into the seemingly proper sentence I was searching for.

Paint with the color of what it means for you to feel alive.

"What does it mean to be alive?" I questioned myself. Looking for an answer, I shifted my attention to the people around me, my classmates. Bright smiles were affixed on their faces as I slowly watched them. It was as if they had just finished working on their painting, as if it wasn't difficult for them to paint what being alive is like. My thoughts lingered on how they look a lot like me just a while ago. Bewildered by my sudden realization, I barely notice the bell ringing.

"Clean as you go everyone. We will continue this next Friday. Thank you and enjoy your weekend!" declares our Arts teacher, Ms. Jackson. The class agreed in unison while tidying their areas.

The room was almost empty when I realized my mind was still floating elsewhere. I shook my head and quietly pack my brushes. I flinched by the sudden movement behind me. I turned and found Ms. Jackson carefully studying me.

"Lydra, is something the matter?" I blinked at her question in oblivious. "You look so out of place. It's not like you to not have painted anything either." She continued while eyeing my clean canvas.

"I'm okay." I simply replied. I didn't know what else to tell her. To be more frank, I didn't know how to tell her. I have no idea how to explain my sudden moodiness and how I felt so drained. She probably wouldn't even understand me if I tell her how I felt like I am my own blank canvas right now.

"I have to go. I have detention after this." I smiled apologetically and quickly left. I didn't bother looking back to see if she had kept my empty canvas together with the rest. I did not want to be interrogated about it for some reason.