The strangers around me

I sat down beside her. She looked up from her worn off shoes and gave me a questioning look. I guess it said something between 'Hi' and 'Would you be so nice to fuck off'. When I didn't, she dropped her head and returned to the broken stiches that hold the leather around her foot together. She was not that old I guess, she was probably one of the youngest students. She looked even smaller than she already was, sitting next to that giant drawing-case. Small and hurt.

"What are you waiting for?" She looked up, obviously annoyed at my question.

"Why?"

"I don't know. You didn't seem to happy, so I thought I'd keep you company, maybe chat you up a little."

"You don't have to."

"So what is it that makes you so grumpy?" I said leaning back. She gave me a glare.

"People like you."

"So you don't like people who care about their fellow human being?" I chuckled. She just unknotted the wires of her earphones. Appearently she was planning on giving me the silence treatment.

"I don't like people who act like they have  good intentions, but actually just want to bring you down."

"So some one tries to bring you down." 

Just a few more knots to go.

"I just don't belong here." 

"Why?"

"Because I'm different." This actually made me laugh.

"Hun, you're at an art acedemie, you know that right? Every one is a weirdo here." 

"It just strange that all these individuals are doing to same and that thing is do what they are asked to do. To make art."

"So you're kind of our little rebel."

"That's the problem. I'm not.

~

"They're very fairytale-like." I said as I went through the pages of her sketchbook. She let out a frustrated sigh. 

"That's what my teacher said." 

"Is your teacher that much of an asshole?" She didn't reply, but just stared at the cars passing by. 

"No." I waited for her to continue.

"It's just that I don't belong here."

"Why wouldn't you?"

"Because I don't make art." 

"But do you know what art is?" I chuckled. She shrugged.

"At least it's not this."

"Why not? It looks nice, you really do have skills."

"That's the problem. It's just nice and it's just skills, but it's not art."

"How do you know that this is not art." She turned to me and just looked at me for a few seconds, before she anwsered.

"Because it's not what my teacher wants. She wants me to be raditional and work big and rough."

"That can be fun too. You're here to learn after all." 

"I know and I tried, but it just doesn't feel like me." She said softly as her eyes filled with tears.

"Maybe I'm just not an artist."