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Younger Again

Think about when you were younger, like 6. Life was so simple right? You didn’t like someone? You told them but maybe the next day you like them. Something happen? Easy to classify it as good or bad, right or wrong, black and white. That was how it was and always will be in the minds of kids, black and white. But when you get older, the world starts to turn grey, muddled, so you can’t tell if something is right or wrong, because it is grey. It isn’t so simple when you turn 8 and you start seeing it.
Maybe I’m wrong, but I never thought in black and white. Ever since I saw the grey, I couldn’t control it. It took over my brain until I painted my walls grey, wore all grey, and let it slowly consume me. Then I started doing charcoal drawings. I smudged the paper until it was grey, maybe with a tree or hand reaching out at you. I covered my walls with them, no frames; just dozens of splotches of grey all depicting different things.
I wake up at a grey time, walk around my grey room, all grey closets, and then I look in the mirror I have on the back of my door, without fail there is a new crack, a hair wide and as short as a nail clipping. But it joins the small cluster of cracks in the top left corner of the mirror. Thousands of cracks all joined together, making up a huge crack in the mirror. Looking past the cracks and back to my face, I notice my grey eyes, standing out on my face. Over the years I have learned to hate the color.
I hate grey.
I get ready and then walk out the door and leave, jumping from grey into a world of color, bursting with yellows, blue, and red, purple, green. It makes me sick: I have known the grey for so long it unnerves me when I see anything but grey. I see people in the colors they are, vibrant and bright compared to my grey.
I go through my day, doing grey things, and hating it. Why can’t I be orange for once, or blue, or green! Why…..
Then it breaks.
Without warning. I’m sitting in my room and staring at my mirror, and then it shatters, sending little glass pieces in a circle around me. None tough me, but I can almost feel the sting. Then, I look around my room. It is grey, but slowly I see the grey drip and ooze off of the walls, out of my closet, and then right before the sludge can touch the floor, it vanishes, leaving behind purple walls, blue rugs and bed spreads, and my closet! The colors are magnificent! In every shade you can imagine, all everywhere! I lift my hand to touch them, and notice the pink hue to my skin. For years it had been grey, now it looked lively! I run to my bathroom to look in a plain mirror, to find myself with jet black hair, and vibrant green eyes.
The grey is gone.
At last.

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dbacksgirl29 said...
Mar. 27, 2012 at 9:17 pm:
I love how your always incorporating color and writing thought-provoking stories! Great job.
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