Luca: ActivitiesMature

Activities. I was not keen on those. Music wasn't so bad but today's creative activity was art. 

I fucking hate art. 

We were all set up in a few small rooms in these little groups. Me, that Sophia girl and a few others were all sat in a circle with the thingys you put canvas on so it's stood up while you paint it. The canvases and arty things were handed out. Some of it was stuff for collages, or paint, and some pencils. Shit like that. 

We were told by the art therapy woman we had to make something that represented how we all felt and that we'd be discussing it at the end of the session. 

Sophia was sat next to me, looking thoughtful for a while. She picked up some paints and pastels, getting to work while I stared blankly at my own canvas. Did I mention I hate art? I'm shit at it. Why would doing something I'm shit at make me feel any better?

I glanced over at Sophia's canvas as she filled in the background all black and started to draw over it, before staring back at mine. Nothing was coming to me, and I could feel my temper rising up under the drugs they'd given me. 

Sophia stood back to look at her work and as I looked over to see she was pretty much finished, I stabbed my pencil through the canvas, irritated. The art therapy woman looked up, alarmed by the noise it made. She wasn't the only one that jumped - just about every nervous little fuck in that room jumped too. 

The art woman walked over, quietly asking me what was wrong. 

"I don't wanna do any fucking art," I grumbled, still too sedated to get properly angry at her for making me do this. 

"Well, what would you rather do?"

I opened my mouth to answer but I couldn't help noticing that I was being watched by Sophia. She was chewing on her lip, looking all anxious. "What?" I growled. 

She gave a shrug and went back to her own painting while the art woman started trying to persuade me that I should try anyway. 

"Cancer, just give it a go," Sophia sighed next to me. I gritted my teeth, wishing she'd shut up. "Might as well," she smiled. 

"I don't know what to draw. I'm shit at art," I sulked, staring back at my canvas again. I was barely listening as the art woman told me off. 

Sophia shrugged again, "art's subjective. No one can tell you if it's good or bad."

I wasn't so sure, I'd been told plenty of times that my art was shit. 

"Then stabbing a canvas with a pencil is art," I told her, sitting back in my seat, my arms folded across my chest. 

"What's it supposed to represent?" Both Sophia and the art woman looked at me expectantly. 

"I don't fucking know, do I?" I ignored the woman telling me off. 

"Art's supposed to mean something," Sophia frowned a little, like I'd done something bad by not knowing what it was supposed to mean. 

"This is why I'm shit at art." The woman didn't even bother this time, she just rolled her eyes. 

"What do you mean?" Sophia asked. 

"Because I can't think of stuff to draw and if I do it has no meaning. I'm gonna go to the music room." I was sulking, sure, but I wasn't in the mood for that shit. 

No one stopped me as I walked out of the room and headed for the music room. I picked up a shitty acoustic guitar, the kind with plastic strings instead of steel because they break easier and are less dangerous - apparently. It didn't stay in tune, but it'd do to help calm me down. 

Eventually, Sophia joined me. What was with her? She picked up another guitar and played along with me. I couldn't tell if I was enjoying it, or if I was bothered that she was intruding. 

The End

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