i sometimes remember the times i was in high school. memories surrounded with the brightest green, mixing with a dirty gray and black. and sometimes, sometimes there are little dots of blue and yellow, a dull melody of melancholia accompanying the faded moving pictures.
because high school has never been the time of someone's glory. and because happiness has never been associated with a color, floating between our unsaid words, never within one's grasp, shaping the melodies of one's future.
i'd rather forget those miserable pictures.
but i'll always remember those messages, written with dying pencils on already dead wood.
i had that one hideout, being there for me when people weren't. high school had never been bright, but that hideout was. i liked to think of colors floating through the cracks of the dead wood, bringing liveliness into the abandoned building, chasing off faint voices of laughing kids, a ghost of my memories i have never experienced myself.
the colors have never reached the messages, though. because a dull aura always surrounded the words i nearly couldn't decipher. they consisted of a potpourri of letters, sometimes not even making sense, sometimes, though, forming a sentence full of sorrow. gloria was seldom in those thoughts written down to remember.
the color of the dying pencil black, fitting to its surroundings. my pencil, though, such a bright green, sticked out like a naive kid deep in the old woods behind the hideout.
i thought the words may have belonged to someone who lost the memories now floating through my mind, someone years ago, when this hideout still has been a buzzing hut on the high school property and not full of dying remnants.
but under my green words appeared a black potpourri not even a week later, an answer to my thoughts nobody cared about. till now.
love can be so diverse, and i learned to love the mystery of black words showing up under or beside my green creativity. soon, the dying wood was covered in words that created one lyrics after another, the sound, though, only playing in our minds.
i have never met the arcane person that left such an impression on me, though i couldn't shake off the feeling of being watched whenever my feet stepped over the threshold of the warped hut.
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Shadowlights ; Minsung
Fanfiction[en] ; enemies to lovers my mind has never forgotten that someone who was let through my colors, who was the only one privileged to touch me with more than just hatred, although never sure why my eyes were only focused on him and why my hands were s...
