Painted Spectrume

My past was nothing. It's as if I fell from the sky, falling, falling and landing in a land of color.

Except this was a land of painted colors. Nothing, nothing was real in this world. Nothing was real now and in my future.

I accidentally smeared some color and it faded away, only to show that underneath the world that I had thought was beautiful and amazing to be black and white.

I am not fake. I am real.

But everything here is fake, and I can't help but think maybe I am too. Maybe I just hit my head really hard and forgot everything.

My heart tells me that is a lie, like the world I am in.

But in every lie, there may be some truth. I just have to look for it.

In this world, truth comes in the form of a boy who is physically black and white, but at the same time so full of color.

He says his life and himself is as plain as black and white.

I say he is the meaning of color itself.