The Colors of My Life
Red is for the pain I feel
Every single day.
Blue is for the teardrops
I try to hide away.
Black is for the darkness
Deep inside my soul.
Gray is for the sadness
That seems a giant hole.
Brown is for the nothing
That will be there when I fall.
And white is for the hope
That isn't there at all.
I laugh at the people who say depression is without color. I once believed that, but now I know that I was wrong. These are the colors of my life. Red, blue, black, gray, brown, and white.
White. White is an interesting color. Some say that it is the absence of color. But when you're dealing with light . . . All of the colors mixed together makes white light. It seems reasonable that white should represent hope. White is easily tainted. White hardly stays pure for long. And, soon . . . White changes into something different altogether.
Blue. There are so many shades of blue. Maybe that's why I like this color. Unlike red, blue can change drastically and still be blue. Red, however, if you change its shade, it becomes something else . . . Maroon, pink . . . The only way it can remain red, is if it gets darker, and darker, until it is almost black. Blue is a good choice for tears. We cry for as many reasons as there are shades of blue.
Black. Black is the darkness that often taints the white. Black likes to hide at the core, and many people don't see it. It hangs in the back, and often brings out the other colors. But black spreads. And soon everything will be dark.
Brown. Brown is interesting . . . If you say that black is all of the colors mixed together . . . Then what is brown? I say . . . Brown is nothing.
Gray. Gray is plain, often overlooked an avoided by people. It darkens any color . . . Though it mixes prettily with blue. Gray is the clouds before a storm. Gray is the sky . . . Right before the rain.
Red. Red is my pain. Red is my blood that remains just below the skin, unseen by all. If my blood breaks through my flesh . . . Tears are sure to follow.
These are the colors of my life. They are not absent in my depression, as some might say. No. They are only stronger. Depression is, in essence . . . The most colorful stage of life.
Red, blue, black, gray, brown, white. These are the colors of my life.
Moroni of the Mount of Ro. 12/02/04.