literature

Color Blind

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Literature Text

    When I was a little girl, my daddy always told me he had stolen pieces of the sky for my eyes. He said you can see the world through my eyes. And for the longest time, he was right. The earth was none but a marble in my tiny palms. For even Longer, my hands have been emptied, and I was blind.

             Show me color again.
                                                   ***

      My name is Sonia. I am fifteen years old. I have been told I have glittery white hair, like snow, and pale skin. I've long since forgotten what color looks like.

     The world, is nothing but shapes. A triangle here, a square there. The sun is a giant circle.

     When I was small, I liked searching out all the shapes. Trees were triangles. The bushes, circle-squares. Harder ones, such as car, challenged my mind, and brought pouts to my plump lips. Rose lips, that's what Dean called them. He loved my rose lips.

    As I was saying, I loved the shapes of the world. However, it was heavily out weighed for my adoration of colors.

   To me, colors represented feelings. Pink, for the purest of loves, red, for passion. Blue is a sweet melancholy. Gray, a soothing sorrow. Yellow was happiness. And always, my favorite, white. White was pure, lovely. I wore nothing but white.

      Black was for the deepest of despairs. Black drowned me nowadays. I choked on black. Black was everywhere. And I am its prisoner.


                                                ***

    It was gray the day daddy left me. The sky cried for his loss, he took color with him that day. I don't believe my daddy did it on purpose, take away the color. I think it just trailed him, as though they were playing follow-the-leader.

    The World had turned gray, black, and a tiny bit white. Those were the only colors that didn't follow daddy.

     The ten year old me cried with the sky that day, and momma held me for a long time. Momma never held me that long again, and burned at my touch. Momma burned everyday though, she was like glass, fragile to touch, but beautiful and clear. The sorrow was clear on her face, but she wore it like you would make up.

          My Mother was envied by every lady in our neighborhood because of it.

       After Momma didn't hold me anymore, I needed someone else to hold me. Someone else to try to fill the void, to make my glass full again. To bring the colors i had loved so back.

     Dean had almost filled that void. Almost.

    Dean and I were childhood friends. He had always seen me differently. Maybe that's why I had thought he could replace the emptiness inside of me.

   Instead, he made a place all his own. I didn't complain.

    Pink had returned to me one day. I saw it on a hazy morning, blooming on a bouquet of roses my Aunt had put on the dresser. Or so I thought.

      I cried that morning. Love. I missed love.  It felt fuller, deep inside my soul. The color wasn't all back. But I could see pink. So I cried tears of joy.

     One by one, colors came back to me after that. Yellow, blue, green. Red. Velvety red, an endless passion.

      For awhile, I thought I had been forgiven, that the world had been mine again.

    I was foolish to think it had been mine to own in the first place.
                                                        ***
    Momma left me on a yellow blue day. She packed up her things, and drove away.

     Momma didn't even look back at the girl watching her with tears in her eyes. It had been my twelfth birthday that day. I had wanted a porcelain doll, whose eyes would open and close.

     Momma left that doll for me in the living room. She smelt like Momma, so I would sniff her blonde curls. The doll looked like momma too. I set her next to the doll that looked like daddy.

      Dean let me live at his house from then on.
                                                      ***
    Dean never left me. But that didn't matter. The colors faded again. Years went by. I forgot what it was like to feel. To be loved.

     Dean never stopped loving me, and i tried to return the feeling. I needed Dean to stay sane. I needed him to love me, so whatever wisps of color he gave me, I could indulge on.

    Dean knew I was dying on the inside. But then again, so did everybody.
                                                        ***
   Dean was stolen from me one day. He was given back in a white coffin. It was Black that day. Momma came back for me, saying she missed me.
  
    I didn't say no, but  I didn't say yes. I never said anything anymore. Momma took that as a good thing.

   She hated the fact that I never stopped crying. I couldn't hate. Couldn't blame anybody. Nobody held me. The world lost gray, it lost white. The World lost everything beautiful that day.

    Maybe that's what they mean when they say humans destroy everything beautiful they touch. I touched the world, and destroyed its color.

                                                         ***

    I lost myself one day. I had been swimming in a lake one lazy afternoon. And then, I was gone. I didn't know where I went, I just knew there was color there. Daddy was there, and so was Dean. I was so happy then, and I never wanted to leave.

     I woke up in a white room, a bouquet of yellow roses on the dresser, I was lying in momma's laps, and she was brushing her fingers through my curls.

   " I'm so sorry Sonia. Momma loves you so much." She told me.

   The Color came back that day. Or maybe it never left.

            All that mattered, was that I wasn't blind anymore.

                           I could see.
    
Inspired to write this because of a song called Set the Fire to The Third Bar. Plus I sat through 5 hrs and 15 minutes of REALLY good movies so that probably helped. Quite proud of this peice. Comment and you get a hug
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