User blog:Kat2wind2archer/A story

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I had a thought that I wrote down, and I decided to place it here because there's no reason not to.

I remember many things.

And I’m thankful for that- I’m thankful I can remember all the small moments, I’m thankful I can remember the pointless talks that would lead nowhere, I’m thankful for all the little things I remember.

I remember the dark starry nights that were ripped out of old fairy tales, and the bright morning sun that would always be shared with a cup of coffee. I remember the days I spent sleeping in while I could have been running around, I remember the days I baked cookies for my classmates.

I remember sitting across from my best friend.

I remember watching as she dragged her green nails across the solid stone floor, bored. I’d hum a melody of song that’s been lost in a maze of empty thoughts. We were both filled with empty thoughts, you know. Her and I; we’d sit together under the stairs to the basement of our school, and stare at the grey walls, devoured of colour, unlike the rest of the building.

Black and white is beautiful; but grey is… just more.

It’s so much more.

It’s never black and white; it’s never a smile and it’s never a tear. White behind black, black fading into white; it turns grey. Tears behind a smile, a smile fading into tears- it’s all grey.

People have the pathetic need to categorise everything;

This is a happy person,

This is a sad person,

This is an unemotional person,

This is an unlucky person.

But maybe life wasn’t meant to be put in a box. Maybe life is something we still know too little about to categorise. Definitions and labels are so blurry and messy- they’re unreadable, they’re a smudge in the middle of a textbook. Maybe life doesn’t need to be defined?

I remember her telling me, while she faded from black to white and white to black;

“I’m a happy person”

She’s a happy person-

And then I laughed.

I laughed that horrid, loud laugh of mine that echoed throughout the room.

Because it’s funny. It’s pitiful and sad, but it’s just so… stupid.

People laugh at stupid things, right?

It’s stupid that my best friend was branded as ‘happy’.

I’d always come home with her, I’d always sit under the stairs with her, I’d always hide under that old bridge with her.

And she’d always be crying, her pretty, ‘happy’ face smearing and dripping along with her makeup.

And then I started doing the thing I despised most;

I branded her as a ‘sad person’.

But she was grey; and I was grey, too.

I shouldn’t have thought of her dark tears and bright smiles, I shouldn’t have thought about her green nails nor her blue shoes.

Green nails, yet whenever you’d look at them from the corner of your eye, they’d turn a disturbing brown.

Green were the trees in early spring, brown was the kiss of the summer sun.

Long nails, yet they’d always brake and have to start growing anew-

Long were the bridges that we’d run across, broken was the poisonous hug of the river.

Sharp nails, yet if you’d scratch too hard they’d become dull.

Sharp were the pens that would write endless nonsense, dull were the pencils sketching the faces of undiscovered stars.

We weren’t green, we weren’t yellow or blue, we were just grey.

We’d be sad.

And then we’d be happy,

Not because we’re stuck trading and changing colours-

It’s just how life works; life is grey, and it shouldn’t be stuffed into box.

I remember the day I told her I couldn’t come over because of something stupid- something I can’t even care to remember. Maybe if I would have put that idea aside, maybe if I would have stayed with her, things would have been different. But I didn’t.

But hell do I wish I could go back and change that.

I wish I would have stayed home, I wish I could have been there for her while she was going through everything.

I didn’t want to lose a friend- I didn’t want to lose someone I held so close to my heart.

I didn’t care about the stupid results of whatever I did the day before; I didn’t care for the prize I received, I didn’t care for the stupid voices giving me thoughtless and empty compliments.

I didn’t care for the things that were worth less than a penny for me- nor the things that would stand on a shelf, the things that would simply exist for the sake of someone looking at them.

All I cared for were her grey tears, her grey smile, her grey eyes, all I cared about were her grey words;

“I’m staying in here”

She pointed at my grey heart.

At my black heart, my white heart, my green heart, my red heart, my purple heart, my grey heart-

“So, don’t forget about me- you can forget about my grey tears, you can forget about my green nails, you can forget about the mess I’d always make at your house, you can forget the stone bridge we’d hide under, because- because…”

Even her sigh was grey.

Laced with silent cries and happy smiles.

“-forget about the colours, forget about the stupid reds that bled from the scars, forget the ugly yellows that would taint our white shirts, forget the disgusting blue that would always smudge on paper. Forget all that, but remember me, please- I just… I want you to remember me” she’d cry.

She’d cry tears of no colour; she’d cry real tears.

She’d then cry tears of despair and sadness, tears of hope and thankfulness.

“Damn you, don’t you dare forget me”

And I remember that I smiled; I stood there and smiled-

I didn’t laugh, because it wasn’t stupid-

I didn’t frown, because she was still right there, still standing in front of me-

I smiled because I won’t forget her-

I won’t forget her nails, I won’t forget her smiles, I won’t forget her tears.

I’ll forget the stupid labels, I’ll forget, and I’ll never want to remember them.

I silently place a bouquet of roses on the stone-

The roses weren’t red, they weren’t blue nor were they yellow.

They didn’t have colour, they didn’t need it.

She didn’t need colours either.

Her life was beautiful; so is mine, so is my family’s, so is everyone else’s.

No matter how empty, how unlucky or painful it is, it’s beautiful.

Even the simple thought of existence can be beautiful;

I remember her, and even though she’s somewhere far, far away, she remembers me.

A colourless human being, who can’t wrap their head around the simple thought of life;

Of how fragile it all is, how beautiful.

How colourless, how grey-

Not an ugly, sad, pathetic grey.

A grey that holds the power to every other colour, a grey that means anything and everything.

A bouquet of roses laying on a stone grave-

They too were going to wilt, just like everyone else.

And that’s okay, because that’s just a part of life we can’t change.

It’s beautiful, it’s sad, it’s pathetic, it’s hilarious, it’s grey.

And I’m fine with that.

“Can't wrap my head around it

And left me so astounded

Cause love I finally I found it

But I'll take all the pain it's intense

Statues in your name and monuments

To share your light

until my last day to my last breath” – Eternal Queen