White
Hey dear life, I hope you are still here. As I write this plea to you, I hope you are here silently listening to me and cheering me on from inside these walls which I constantly find myself staring at. These white walls, the white curtains, the white rhetoric, I can only assume this whiteness to be a witness to my melancholy. I know I know melancholy is supposed to be blue, but hey, for once, let me define the ghost in my mind with arbitrary feelings. For once, let me see the darkness in this white that deliberately amuses the core of my being because it sucks up the entirety of me in its existence. There was once a friend I knew. A happy friend. I remember smiling at her before parting ways with her that Saturday as I rode the bicycle, and she left off in this myriad of diabolical void. She rushed off into it, and was smiling, waving at me. I couldn’t wave back because I was too stunned to see the reality of that mirage slowly coming into place. The waves crashing at the se...