You can't help but to lose sight of the spectrum when color is no more than a concept. There is no cure for the most subtle sort of blindness, it just festers, and grows, and develops inside. If this is my wits' end, where do they begin again? If this is how it has always been then this is how it shall remain. As everything surrounding slowly fades into grayscale, life is much less where it once was found abundant. This is evisceration. This is passion tearing through flesh and bone. I'm an amalgamation of the fears that I've found in my time spent alone. It isn't me, it isn't me, I swear I'm all I am, I'm just taking everything as was prescribed. And if it isn't meant to be then lay it out in front of me, a reminder of what's keeping me alive. I'm reclaiming my flaws and embracing tomorrow.
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