"My life is made of my own palette of colors."

In this world, we perceive it through eyes that see vibrant colors or eyes that see only black and white. During middle school, I was given an invisible crown I never asked for, and my life became a canvas for others to paint. I was a girl admired by many, but hiding within my shell only added to my charm. At first glance, my life appeared a heartwarming piece of art, but beneath the surface, it was far from perfect.

Layers of resentment and hatred began to bleed into my canvas, turning the once light-hearted scene into a dark and twisted image. Jealous peers targeted my perceived weakness, and harsh words erased my happiness. Even my friends couldn't always save me.

At home, my parents' pressure and judgment only added to the weight, making the colors of my life heavier and more oppressive.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

I felt trapped, unable to steer my life in the right direction. I wanted to go with the flow, no matter how grim.

Then my pencil snapped.

One rainy day, I found myself on the edge of destruction, ready to end my own story. The voices in my head urged me to paint myself red, and I was about to obey.

But fate intervened, and a pair of strong hands saved me just in time. Yet in doing so, someone else lost their life.

Since that day, guilt has cast a shadow over my life's canvas. Yet, amid the darkness, a glimmer of gratitude shines through, honoring the selfless hero who saved me.

Though the shadows of my past emotions still linger, I've learned to silence the whispers urging me to give up on my life. Instead, I now fear the consequences of giving in to such darkness. I remind myself that things will get better, and I honor the one who saved me by living life to the fullest and cherishing every precious moment. It was a debt I could never repay.

Or so I thought.