One of the most notable things about the college campus is its parks. I haven't stepped inside the college yet, but the first thing that greets me is the greenery, flowers on the sides, and the preserved trees here. I know a lot about the flowers here. My mother loves flowers, and my dad is a romantic who never forgets to bring flowers home every week. They are always so in love. Sometimes it's a bit much for me, but I love looking at their happy faces and sharing peaceful moments with them. I also like flowers. I was eight when I first learned about different types. Their colors are unlike any painting or scene that nature can show us. They're enchanting and make people's lives more colorful, symbolizing positivity.
If one goes to my mind they can see the list of flowers. I have accumulated since small visiting various different places. In the garden of my life, there are Roses—symbols of love that greet me more often than my own reflection in the mirror. Sunflowers stand tall, their golden faces radiant as the sun itself. Hydrangeas bloom in abundance, their clusters of flowers as big as my dreams. Lavender fills the air with its fragrant embrace, a soothing balm for the soul. Peonies beckon with their lush petals, perfect for creating extravagant bouquets. Daisies dance in the breeze, their simplicity a reminder of innocence and joy. Orchids, ancient and wise, whisper secrets from seventy six to eighty four millions of years past in their delicate blooms. Tulips unveil their perfectly symmetrical forms, a testament to nature's artistry. Lilies grace the garden with their strong, captivating fragrance. And the venerable Chrysanthemum, with roots reaching back to ancient China, tells stories of centuries gone by with each petal, since fifteenth centuary B.C. These flowers, each with its own story and allure, paint a tapestry of beauty in the garden of life, enriching our world with their timeless presence.
When you read this, you might mistake me for a poet, but these are just passing thoughts—too fleeting for my notes. It's more like learning formulas than reminiscing about flowers.
It's refreshing out here, but not quite as much as it could be because there are lots of people around me. Streams of students are arriving with smiles, chit-chatting away. It's a bit annoying to have one's ears filled with so much noise, but I don't have a choice. Amidst this chaotic and mind-numbing chatter, I have to walk all over the campus alone. Being alone is best; it helps me concentrate. Well, I'm trying to fill myself with positive energy, even though I fear my cap might fly away at any moment.
The first thing you notice when you look up is the classrooms, the long hallways that lead down to the sports stadium. People are admiring the paintings, the large library, the cafeteria, the swimming pools, and from a distance, the staff room. Lastly, you see club groups showcasing their clubs to attract newcomers. It's similar to most colleges, but the subtle yet significant difference is that the students here are all elites from important backgrounds. I don't see a single person who looks poor, judging by their branded shoes, caps, and jackets from head to toe. Although I'm not considered poor either, the clothes I'm wearing today seem dull compared to their colorful branded outfits, even though mine are probably more expensive than theirs. I mentally note to wear something more like them next time. People tend to attract others by showing similar traits, appearing normal, even though they are not just normal.
An unnoticed sigh escaped me as I noticed something on the notice board that seemed utterly absurd. Among all these academic clubs—film club, music club, media club, culture club, arts club, sports clubs, science, and others—there was a sign that said, "BE A FLORIST!!!!" with an arrow pointing to it.I almost thought it as an illusion of thinking about flowers. The hall number stuck beside it read "Room Number 30," the last and least known club. Who on earth would want to join this group!? But then again, why was no one else around here? Just as I was turning to look around, I noticed people staring at me with interest.
For a moment, I considered touching my head to check my cap, which was intact and not slipping off. So why were they looking at me like that?
However, why was I even thinking about this, I wondered as I walked off in the other direction, trying not to dwell on it. People could look at me, but I never felt comfortable with their gazes, unlike others might. Yet for the first time, I sensed something amiss with their curious stares, and as I turned to look, I narrowly avoided being hit by an arrow!!! I reacted reflexively and caught it. With one glance, I realized it was made of rubber, which was the only relief I felt. They were looking at me with amusement! They were looking at me like I was an idiot. It felt seriously humiliating, and the next second I heard cheers, which only irritated me further, so I left from there. Ultimately, I blamed myself for not looking all around, but only straight ahead.
As I walked, the feeling of their stares didn't dissipate as I wished, but instead, their attention remained fixed on me. Just as I took a few steps in another direction, a person approached me—a girl. She looked at me with her pink eyes, as if trying to convey that I was a freshly fried hot chicken. She stared at me for a few seconds, as though I were some kind of animal she had never seen before. I felt a serious headache coming on and walked in the opposite direction. I never feared being hated or bullied. They could hate me, but they couldn't bully me, as I was strong enough to defend myself. So I felt nothing was wrong and continued thinking about what I should buy from the stationery store.
But as annoying as a situation that shouldn't have become more annoying could be, the girl approached me again and this time looked straight at me with an empty expression, saying, "I would like you to join our archery club. Please come to room number 13 from tomorrow onwards."
Saying this, she started walking away in her pink high heels. I couldn't understand this, so I asked, "Why should I join your group?" This question seemed very simple, but who knew that the next second the girl would turn furious and say in an arrogant manner, "Me telling you to come to our club is enough for a person like you. You shouldn't expect more. I'm doing you a great favor by inviting you, alright?!"
This response was different from others, and I couldn't understand it. I seriously told her, "I don't like archery, so I won't join."
Just grabbing a bow doesn't make one an archery master, I thought seriously, with no intention of offending the lady. Yet she seemed even more offended and moved to grab me directly. This couldn't be more eye-catching, but before she could reach me, the people around started cheering, calling out "SENIOR DYLAN!!" This successfully distracted the strange girl who was after me.
She said, "I'll deal with you later!" and stomped her feet once before running off like Cinderella about to lose her slipper.
And then I saw someone who caught me off guard like no one else ever had. There appeared a boy just like me, but he was so gorgeous that the crowd started running towards him. He stood there with charm, and no one got too close to touch him. Despite his soft, charming smile directed towards others, he seemed to dislike people being close to him. But I couldn't stand there watching him like an idiot, so I walked away to meet my class teacher for a chat, as he is my father's friend and mine too.
Since then, my story wasn't just mine anymore. It was colored by someone else too.