In My Room

How have you been? Have you been well?
I’ve been thinking about you.
I want your colors back in my life.

I really hate the color blue. Does everybody see it as I do? Is it always falling out of walls and spilling on to floors? Peaking from around the corners, from the street signs, the lights in stores? It really ruins my day. There is a strange sort of feeling that overcomes me when I see it. I’m not sure when it began. But the first time I remember is when I was right in front of a convenience store. The lights from the store were thrown across the pavement and whoever passed under it was painted in a neon blue. Just for a moment, when it fell over me, I felt my breath get caught somewhere. My eyes fell on my arms and they were drenched in that blue light. It felt as though I had gotten caught by some unfathomable beast in a nightmare. And then my feet stepped inside the store and the feeling started to wear off. That was a while ago. It still feels a similar way, but now I’ve gotten sued to the idea that I have to pull myself together and keep walking wherever I am. But it still feels burdensome to have to endure it. But the worst place it has come to me is my house. My house is really a prison of blue. I really hate this detail about it. I wish it were any other color.

I had to leave work early today. The store owner decided to close early to go visit her parents. She usually doesn’t tell me about herself but today she seemed like she was happy. Even though I took my time getting out, the sun still hadn’t set yet. When I walk home most evenings, it’s already so dark. But today the sky was like a reflection of the concrete with a little bit of the sun still coming through. There were deep stormy rain clouds gathering. Maybe it was the anticipation of the rain or the awkward stream of light, half lighting the city, it made me feel a little out of place. Like things had split, into this time of day I was getting unfamiliar with and the traces of one I knew well. There was more of a crowd in the streets at that time and walking past them brought on a comparison. They laughed and scolded, held hands and or simply evaluated a choice in stores with such tranquility. An uncomfortable thought appeared in my mind, questioning how much of a part of it I felt. When I have such thoughts, they don’t seem to keep at questions. I also get answers that I don’t like. It made me feel like I wasn’t to be out at this time. Like I had no idea how to be here and not disrupt this image of the town with all its engaging players. Everyone fitting the colors of this light while I jutted out like a mistakenly made stroke of paint. I felt cramped and empty. Like they can see through me. A glass spilt over on its side. I felt transparent. A ghost amongst people with full selves. It was hard to shake that thought even as I entered the house. But once I did, I felt comfortable. I felt comfortable inside the familiar discomfort it brought. This, rather than how I had just felt, this was better by a margin.

Now that I’m home, I can see the traces of the time I’m not usually here for, on the things in my house. The light coming in from the window, not too bright anymore, has cast a shadow that makes the rooms look like they’ve split in two. Each thing, each decorative ornament and piece of furniture, belonging in two places. The blue and shades of grey have begun the symphony of discomfort inside my body. A discomfort I am familiar with. I swim through that song and into my room to change. And once I’m out, I find everything has gone back to the singular shade of black. The sun has finally fully set. I walk around to the lights and turn them on. At once the room is lit in an ink-like shade glowing softly from the corner. I put this in a long time ago, very excited about having found this particularly rare shade of light. The memory of seeing it light up this room for the first time somehow still feels very warm, but in the now it is just cold. Like there is ice in this room. An entire palette of coldness and icescapes. It hasn’t a hint of warmth. Why do I not change it? Why do I still leave it as you liked it?