No Colours / Or Light

I live in a world where I'm trained to see shades of grey. No Black black and there's very little unspoiled White white. In this (real?) world, there are no heroes, no villains. There's just the brave, the scared, the smart, and the stupid, and all permutations of those. Oh, and I suppose one more: The ignorant, the unaware. Those not knowing and not doing enough of anything to be any of the above.

I'm trained to see how other people see, and the result is that I have extreme difficulty seeing things in my own way. Everything is nothing, is no way. It just is, and nothing matters.

But it matters. I am a child of tragic circumstance, not because my circumstances are tragic, but because yours are, or they aren't, and no matter which one it is, it can always be the other, it just depends on how you look at it. And when how you look at it is a result of your circumstances, and your circumstances are that you're brutally aware of all the varying circumstances, looking at it is a blurry passtime, and you crave definition you can never, ever have.

These are my circumstances.

I want to be a hero. I am a passionate, fervent fire in a world where devotion is foolish or frightening to those who witness it. I want to see you but I am terrified because you might be terrified of what you see, or of being seen. So I don't look, and, I can't help but look, glean, accidentally, how much you would love to be seen, would stand to be better for it, and can't help but remember how people hate to see... themselves, their truth.

You are a compulsive liar. You are afraid. You are oblivious. You are insensitive. You were brutal. You made mistakes. And yes, if you would just be truthuful about it, I would still love you forever, openly, instead of in lessthanawhisper, lessthanawhimper, from the shadowy fringes.

"You melodramatic fuck."

Since Auschwitz, no one is allowed to feel bad.

I feel bad. Why?

Because I'm desperately trying not to feel you, and that's not what I want.

I'm the scared and I might be the stupid for it. I want us to see our colours. I want us to see each other. No more of this one staring at a portrait. I want truths laid bare, and true friends to show for it.

Where are you? I'll count to ten, and maybe I'll have the strength to come looking for you again.