A Collection of Messy Thoughts

The Chaos of the Aftermath

I feel like the dark walls of my mind are now painted yellow. Dripping with a color as bright and as happy as the sun. Glaring with happiness. Butterflies of excitement rapidly fluttering their wings from one corner of my mind, or rather from one situation to the next.

Ironic how I used butterflies to describe my happiness and excitement; seeing as though I am genuinely petrified of them. Look at it from another window and you will see that I am now embracing what terrified me. Opening up to new ideas like a blossoming flower. Slowly.

Progress is the stepping-stone to accomplishment- right? Let me tell you something: I had no clue what I wanted to write when I grew curious for the whereabouts of the notebook in which I put down my draft copy. Even when I got up and sauntered around in a rather lazy manner to look for it; my mind was still blank. It was an empty room waiting to be filled with colors, objects, patterns, light, confessions- secret ones that can only be revealed through the above mentioned when gazed- or rather stared at with a curious, willing, observant eye. More importantly; it was waiting to be filled with life.

When I picked this book and flipped it open to a fresh, blank page, I began to grow furious at all the endless ideas my brain threw at me. It was absolute chaos. That was until it settled down and tugged at one topic: color.

From there onwards, the chaos that I assumed to have calmed down only grew into a mayhem of explosive ideas. The blank room now had multicolored walls and for some bizarre reason, this room had more than four walls. More than four choices.

The first wall, to my right was pink, and before you ask, pink is not my favorite color. It was not a bright Barbie doll pink, so it definitely was not revolting. It was rather comforting. Welcoming. A deep pink, almost purple- tinged with an undertone of red. Whatever this color was; it made me want more of it.

To the left of this ginormous room, another wall glowered at the warm pink color. It was a threateningly dark grey. It was the rainclouds that gathered before a heavy thunderstorm. Resonating the lush smell before the showers arrived. It grew on me; like a grapevine on a wall. A grapevine you want to poke and prod at even through a fear that left you blanched. Despite this, your curiosity grew towards the wall that proffered such contradictory atmospheres.

It was brain wrecking that two inviting, yet contradictory things faced one another. Almost like being torn between the choice of two emotions over one issue.

Bewildered; I spun around and I was met with a collision of contradictory colors facing one another.

Yellow; my favorite color. A color that radiates happiness loudly grinned at a midnight blue wall. A midnight blue that wanted to shy away with its depth of color, of confessions, of mystery. This unknowingly pulling color silently observed the ray of sunshine facing it.

I walked carefully between the corridors of colors and met with a nude color facing a rather monotonous pastel green, which seemingly tried to blend in with the rest of the walls. On the contrary, the nude color made me feel a sense of empowerment that made me want to stand out, stand apart. Rather that altering myself to blend in.

I believe that we have a choice with every situation and with every desire. We can choose to be empowering with what we are like the simplicity of the naked nude, or we can choose to blend in and follow the direction of everyone else who has his or her own walls to choose from.

We can have smiling, yellow hearts and attitudes towards a situation or turn into the layers of the blue night sky, becoming a midnight blue to the situation and wallow with our thoughts, underneath all the layers.

We can choose to be embraced by the unnamed pink of love. The love from anyone, again leaving us with the choice to return the welcoming, embracing pink. On the other hand, we can choose to embrace the contrarily peaceful yet dark and looming thunderous storms. It is after all, all your choice.

However, when I surreptitiously turned to face the front. A colorless, emotionless wall quietly questioned me. It was as if it was asking me: "What color am I?"

Inaudibly, I answered, "This is my wall. I choose the color- no, colors on this wall. I am not just going to be yellow, pink, grey or blue. I am going to be everything and anything I want to be. I am a spectrum of colors."