The colors on the palette blurred together again.

Blue or green? Yellow or gray? I couldn’t tell. I never could. But today, with no one beside me to help, the uncertainty felt louder. Like it was laughing at me through the paints. My brush hovered above the canvas, my breathing shallow.

Why did I choose this path? An Arts and Design student who couldn’t even see colors right. It always felt like a silent joke—me, trying to live in a world built on shades I couldn’t fully understand. But I loved creating. I had to.

Still, today was different. My partner—the one who always gently reminded me which color was which—was absent. And now the project sat in front of me, half-finished, an unforgiving maze of uncertainty. One wrong stroke, and I could ruin the whole thing. I felt the panic creep up my spine, my eyes prickling with tears.

Then, movement.

I glanced up and saw someone passing by. A student from a different strand—HUMSS, I thought, based on the uniform. They looked like they weren’t planning to stop. But something in their eyes shifted when they saw me.

I didn’t mean to speak. I didn’t even want to.

But the words tumbled out of me before I could stop them.

“Can you please help me?” My voice was soft, desperate, trembling.