Orange sky

The puzzle

It's 6 AM. I'm standing at my window looking at this beatiful orange sky.

Beauty is really a relative thing, you know? This gorgeous mix with shades of red and pink are just the reflex of ugly enormous particles of dust in the atmosphere. It's a beauty that is killing us, it's making us sick and here we are comtemplating it like a peace of art. Life is all about this misunderstandings. We are all wrong, all the time, playing right.

"She is so different now I can barely recognize her."

"She is fat."

There's always those who don't bother playing nice.

It's kind of funny how people get in and out of your life, always taking something with them. In my case it's a pile of self-confidence that takes me months to build. It never changes. I make it high, someone trashes it down. I'm stuck in this circle of healing and dying and I don't recommend it.

I wish there was an AA for this. We are addicted to something, I guess. My doctor say we are always coming back to our confort zone. My confort zone is believing in people when they tell me I'm ugly or fat, bad singer, too short, mediocre, an ok drawner, the list goes on. I believe in them even when I know these are just a bunch of things that don't define me as a human being.

So I'm here looking at the sky, trying to figure it out how to get out of the circle.

There's this thing that makes it harder, though: I go to a school of exceptional kids. Everyone is either an artist or a cientific genius. At least that's what it seams like to me. Of course I feel like I'm the only one there that doesn't fit, the yellow piece at the orange puzzle. I'm definitly not a blue piece, because I would have to match perfectly the sky in its natural form, how things should be, how people should behave. I know there is no such thing. There is no blue piece in the universe.

We are all just a bunch of yellow and green and purple and some beautiful, perfect orange.

I'm settling down with my yellow.