He looked at
her quickly, a few sits behind him. She was looking back at him.
He knew what
she was thinking.
He looks so ridiculous with that hair.
He didn’t
care. He didn’t care about anything anymore.
He used to
be different. He used to change his attitude around other people, because he
couldn’t stand looks like that one. Only one months before, he would have gone
nuts. He used to want everyone to like him. Not because he needed to, just
because he was raised that way.
Please everyone, as much as you can, and you
will live a long and happy life.
That’s what
his mother used to tell him while she was preparing him to go to sleep.
He would
look at her face, the bruises around her eye and he would think that that
didn’t seem like a happy life, and he wasn’t pleasing anyone.
That’s why
he never wanted anything in his life. He just kept on going with the flow,
following everyone on their path, never creating one of his own.
And then his
mother died, and everything started to show different colours. The gray tones
that used to cover his life started to become purple, and yellow, and blue. The
curtains fell. His eyes became brighter and wider. He could see.
He smiled,
thinking about it.
He grabbed
the case and the bag, ready to get off the bus.
Days like
that would throw him back in the past and pull him in the present so fast that
his mind would hurt. So many things had change in a single month, so much more
was to come.
He still had
a few more stops. He opened the zip of the case and took out the music sheet.
He was working on a new song, it was a school project.
He smiled
again.
That was one
of the reasons why he didn’t care about what other people thought of his look,
of his long black coat or his blonde hair parted in the middle. He had fought
so much for that music sheet to be filled with his own notes, his own melodies.
And nobody would have ever known.
He put the
sheet back in the guitar case and pushed the red button.
He got up,
looked at her again. She was still looking at him again, even if she was trying
to hide it.
Back then,
he would have thought she had all the reasons to judge him, because he was
bothering her with his look.
But now, now
everything was different. Now he knew that his look was his own business and
nobody had the right of judging it. Now he knew that bruises come from pleasing
others as much as from standing for themselves. And that’s why he didn’t care
how she would look at him. He didn’t have to please her, nor anyone else.
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