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FLASHBACK
SCAR, AGE 12
Isat on the edge of my bed, wiping the tears from my face, trying to erase the memory of the events that led to my heartbreak.
My brother sauntered in, still in his football gear, and asked eagerly, "What's wrong?" It was clear he had just finished practice.
"Nothing." My voice wavered.
"I'm using my wild card." He strolled into my room and sat beside me. When we were younger, we came up with a system to use when we forced one another to talk about the things we were holding back. We had one wild card to use in a year, so we had to use them wisely.
I snorted.
He smirked.
"What's going on?" Seth nudged my side.
I sighed. "You remember the spring dance is coming up, right?" I side-glanced at my brother.
He nodded.
"Some of the girls at school said that no boy is going to ask me to go because they don’t want to deal with my mood swings." I had known these girls since elementary school. Seth didn’t say a word. After a few minutes of unbearable silence, I turned to see the reaction on his face. He looked right through me, and Icouldn’t figure out his thoughts or feelings. Before I opened my mouth to speak, he intersected.
"They’re fucking idiots. You don't deserve to be treated like crap."
His words forced the tears to escape. I bowed my head, and suddenly, he was crouching before me. Seth tipped my chin up and offered me a sweet smile.
"They don’t know what they’re missing. They don't deserve you, sis. Don't ever settle for less." He tucked a loose curl over my ear.
"What's wrong with me?" Sniff. " It's not my fault I'm crazy." I never asked for this. Feeling powerless over my thoughts and physical being was the last thing I wanted.
Most days, I was a normal thirteen-year-old; other days, I said hurtful words to those who loved me. I would sleep for days whenever the dark cloud decided to hover over me. The angry thoughts and disturbing images of hurting myself or others flooded my mind, leaving little room to breathe. No wonder Andy didn’t want me.
"Hey. Look at me." His voice was firm and serious.
I obeyed and did what he said.
I always did.
"There is nothing wrong with you. You are special, beautiful, sweet, and caring. You are the strongest person I know."
Seth reached for my hands and pulled me up, leading me toward my bedroom wall beside the window. He picked up the palette and a paintbrush and handed them to me. I looked down at the items in my hand and then at his face with confusion.
He chuckled and placed his hands on my shoulders, forcing me to face the blank canvas on the wall.
"Yellow is hopeful. Blue is calm. Green is the start to a new beginning—a fresh start. Purple is creativity. Red is passionate, and orange is happy." I looked down at the colors on the palette. They bled into one another. I last painted a canvas with trees coated in warm autumn colors. I painted it after one of my bad days. The colors helped smother the noise, giving me a reprieve, even if just for a little while.
"Do you see now, sis?Youcontrol the range of colors by mixing all your emotions into one. When you drop a hint of black, your mind goes dark. But when you add a hint of white, the purity returns, making the colors spread into its own space." Seth stood in front of me while I took in everything he said. He was describing my bipolar. It was not an ugly color, but a mix of colors trying to find its way back to its spot. I looked up at my brother with so much love. He was always there for me. Always taken care of me. Held me up when I started to go down. He was the rainbow after my storm.
"You are not bipolar. Youhavebipolar disorder. Don't ever confuse them with each other." He kissed the top of my head and pulled me into a hug. I wrapped my hands full of the palette and brush around his waist, burying my head in his chest.
"I love you, sis. Paint me the world—the way you see it."
That was the start of me painting one side of my bedroom wall. On that day, I painted the whole wall with a mix of colors in an abstract style. It was how I saw the world—a blend of beauty and ugliness.
I painted the world the way I saw it.
FIFTEEN
