𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑, 𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐋𝐄. || 𝓶𝓲𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓮𝓵 𝓴𝓪𝓲𝓼𝓮𝓻.

˚ʚ INTRODUCTION ɞ˚

❁ --- ❁

Just when I thought things were going to get better, life throws whatever it wants. They say life doesn't give you more than what you can handle. So, was I supposed to believe that?

Of course, I did.

When my mother took her last breath, I thought; Ah, maybe it's meant to be. Whatever was above the clouds wanted her more than the world did. Wait, that's not it. She took herself away, how selfish.

...

I'll take it. Yet, it doesn't mean that pain wasn't involved.

Mother had beautiful red hair, I didn't inherit it. I was stuck with a dull color. Black. I didn't hate it, no. It was more of jealousy and envy towards my own mother. She was like a jewel in a field of roses. To be honest, it fits her; a delicate, simple flower that grew with thorns to protect herself.

God, I wish I was her.

No matter how much pain she had caused me, I wanted to be like her. So, I took it into my own hands, dyeing the ends of my hair precisely the same color and leaving the rest of my hair naturally. There, I am a part of her...

It was disappointing to know that she'd change. She told me she hated my existence, the girl she brought into this world. I took everything to heart, tears welling up my eyes. The days were long and torturous. I cried everytime she insulted me, screamed at me.

But I didn't cry when she died.

...

Mother, I wish you could've seen me. I wish you would've been there to see what I found. I saw a rose that day. It wasn't red, mother. No. It was blue. And I purposely pricked my finger on it. From the way it glared at me...

..it was as if he wanted me to do it again. To touch him again.

What should I do, mother? You're supposed to be giving me the advice I needed. Why are you gone? Why are you escaping without me?