True Colors

                I can hear the crashing waves again. I’m standing at the edge of a cliff. I can’t figure out if it’s a sunset or a sunrise. I can see the ocean beneath me. I started to walk towards the horizon until I can’t feel the ground under my feet anymore. Strong gushes of wind start to caress me. I know I’m falling but I’m not scared. It didn’t take too long for me to enter the water. The cold water sent chills on my spine. I’m sinking slowly. I watched the rays of the sun on the water’s surface. For a moment, I start hearing my mother’s voice; singing the same lullaby she used to sing when I was still a child.                 I slowly closed my eyes; letting myself sink slowly into the darkness.                 I witnessed the same hue of white as I opened my eyes. It’s a new day but the same life for me. Another day to survive. I got up and looked around. I see the world differently from normal people. I was diagnosed with an eye problem. No, it’s not like I can’t see clearly. But… I’m color-blind. I can’t see the colors properly. I have a condition called Protanopia or mostly known as red-green color blindness. It’s hard for me to see the difference between red, green, brown, and orange hues. I also often get confused between blues and purples. However, my condition didn’t stop me to live a normal life except for my Art Subjects and conversations about colors. Most of the time, the colors of my clothes are mixed up. So, I usually wear monochromatic clothes; resulting to the impression that I’m an “emo”.                 It’s almost one year that Mom has passed away. It’s been more than three years that Dad last contacted me. I know and it’s clear to me what I am and my Mom to his life. I’m just an illegitimate child. Mom was the only person I considered as my safe haven so it was hard for me when she died. She has taught me a lot of things like doing the house chores and cooking… yeah, especially cooking. She was the head chef of a five-star hotel and cooking was really her life and passion. After she was gone, I tried to continue my life alone. I don’t know who I should run to; except my Dad who I don’t know his whereabouts and my grandfather in Germany who doesn’t accept me as being an illegitimate child.                 I got out of bed and looked around. I walked towards a sketch that I drew. It’s nicely framed and is beside my Mom’s jewelry box. It’s an image of my mom’s hand holding mine. I gave it to her on her last birthday. I stared at it for a couple of minutes. How I wish she’s still here. If only I can do anything to see and hug again. With a heavy sigh, I left my room and made my way to the kitchen where Mom usually stays to pass time. I opened the fridge which never gets empty even though my mom is not here. Mysteriously, the staff from the local supermarket goes to our apartment to bring groceries every second and fourth Saturday of each month. At first, I thought it’s a mistake but the receiver’s name written on the delivery form is my mother's. Oddly enough, even the bills are paid on time. I don’t know who’s behind all of these but I’m grateful. I actually don’t know what to do. I brought out something for breakfast. I looked at the clock on the wall. I have enough time to prepare. After breakfast, I left my apartment. The nearest bus station is ten minutes away on foot. The next station is near my school. I’m studying at a school where children from rich families go there. I honestly have no idea how I got there. My Mom’s salary as a head chef is not enough for me to be in that place. Another thing that’s bothering me is a bank account that’s named after me. No matter how much I take; the number remains the same. With that in my mind, I still learned to take only what I need. It’s what my Mom has taught me, too.                 I quickly rode the bus when I got to the station. It’s rush hour so I have to move quickly. The trip takes fifteen minutes till the next station and then I have to walk for five more minutes to get to school. I entered the gate as soon as I arrived. I hate this school. I hate everyone here. Everyone misunderstands my personality and how I see the world. If I could just run away; escape to a better place. I went straight to the rooftop of the building where my classroom is. I usually go here to avoid the students who make my life a living hell. I’m bullied by the students here; especially that William Chadwick Dela Torre. Everyone calls him “Chad”. He’s the most popular and feared student here. He’s handsome indeed but he has a really spoiled personality. He’s feared by students because of what his family can do. Coming from a prominent family, they have the power to control. I often see his Mom when she visits our school. She’s just the same as her son; intimidating. There are too many bad things that Chad did to me. I became a “slave” of his and his friends. They often order me to buy things using my own money. They would never return the cost. I’m still thankful that they are not hurting me physically. I can’t fight and I know I’m physically weak.                 “You’re just here,” a voice said. A sudden feeling of fright rushed all throughout my body. I can’t reply nor move. I know it's Chad. “Hey, shorty!”                 “What do you need now Chad?” I asked upon gazing at him. He just took a cigarette out of his pocket and started to smoke. I looked around. Smoking is prohibited and he knows all about it.                 “Go away,” he ordered. I started to walk towards the door without any protest. “Hey, shorty! Don’t tell anyone.”                 I just nodded and continued walking toward the door. Even if I tell my teachers what Chad is doing; there’s nothing they could do.