This place is bright.
So, so bright.
Everyone I see is a different color.
That one Is magenta, she's distraught and furious.
Melancholy and rage.
But to me, I don't see emotions.
I see the colors of the emotions, swirling smoke, radiant lights, piercing sounds.
So I see magenta.
Aquamarine.
Others tell me I have to learn to speak in words, not speak what I see, speak words and not colors.
I try.
I try so hard.
Yet still.
The emotions are colors and colors are thoughts and emotions.
They are everywhere.
I can see over there, a bespectacled dragon. I am young.
Yet I can read him, see his colors.
They all told me that the green light was mother. Mother loves me for who I am, I love her beck for that.
Mother is always glowing her soft pale green light, Inside of that veil she has mixed reds, purples and pinks.
She doesn't let the red consume her.
They tell me the red shadow is father.
He doesn't like me, not me, not anyone, nobody but mother.
Father is red.
Always red.
Vermillion, scarlet, and specks of chartreuse .
All of his other emotions are pressed down inside his thick, heavy, red shadow.
He has seen too much red.
He is purple all over.
Guilt.
The red and the purple have mixed together. So much, they don't separate any more.
He is always surrounded by the red shadow.
The hurt, shame, guilt, rage, sadness, and remorse have consumed him so much there is nothing left.
He has become the red shadow.
The only thing that keeps him breathing, still alive. Is the green light.
He depends on her light to stop becoming a shadow himself and fading away into the darkness forever.
Then, there is the most unique person in my family.
The young one.
The one they tell me is brother.
He is in danger.
He was in danger the moment he came out of the clear and gained his own color.
He is the reason I stopped being clear.
Even with his easy, natural smile. Even with the endless bright rays of sunshine perpetually pouring out of his heart cannot deter me. I can see deeper than those happy rays and words of love he speaks to me and mother.
I see ambition, ambition and pride.
He wants to do things, change things. Yet. Pride always comes before a fall.
I exist to hold him back. To stop him from falling.
I exist to protect him.
I have to steer him away from the shadow before he falls in.
Once he starts falling he will never get out.
I hear trilling, high and sharp.
The sound is a pale vivid green.
There is a rumbling behind it. I think it's mauve.
They're arguing again.
There is red in the air.
Thick, loud red.
They're always arguing.
There is so much red in my life.
YOU ARE READING
Whiteout
Spiritual(cover art not mine) What is whiteout thinking? How does she really see the world? Emotions never let go, never. The moment they touch you, you'll have them forever. Even death can't seperate you and your emotions. And... That's why whiteout fears...
