Colors

I woke up to the temptress I championed home with me the night before, her hair a flowing mess across the beige cotton comforter. Turning my head to the nightstand to my left, I grabbed my phone to check the time.

7:13 AM.

I’ve always been an early riser. I sat up on the edge of the bed, taking in the sunrise from the adjacent window. The burning red-yellow horizon bounced off of the egg shell white walls, and the painted nature drew me in. It was a chilling winter day that was reminiscent of beautiful spring memories. The sky was a light shade of blue, with the burning star adding a special hint of golden radiance.

I stepped toward the window, forth and forth, until I was close enough to smell the freshly painted window frames. Close enough in fact, to actually see a reflection of myself. My 5 o’clock shadow became a full on beard, my eyes were bloodshot, and to be honest, I looked beaten down by life. I’ve avoided mirrors, and selfies, for the past three weeks, with hopes to live down how I’d actually felt inside, for whatever reason that I felt it.

My color was yellow.

Walking back into the bedroom, flaunting my navy blue boxer briefs to an audience who was still dead to the world, I grabbed a black bath towel that was tossed recklessly on the spacious hardwood floor.  Walking into the bathroom, I could hear the blonde in the next room stirring around the bedroom one door away.

As I turned the knob on the shower to three-quarters hot, I finally took a deep look at myself in the mirror. I examined my face as if I’d be quizzed on it later in the night. My once smooth skin was now cracking, wrinkling, and I wondered if it had anything to do with me losing hope.

My color was red.

I hopped into the shower and tried to take my mind off of things, but with no fruition. As the steaming water hit my bare skin, memories of drunken rage plagued my mind. Closing my eyes did no good; it would only intensify the visions. I did the only thing I could think of to take my mind away from these bad places, and turned the cold water completely off.

As the smoldering flow pelted off and around me, I came to the realization that I felt no pain at all. My skin was reacting, it was as red as a drunkards face at last call, but there was no pain attached. For what it’s worth, this did temporarily kill the memories I had recently suffered through. I passed out in the shower, maybe from shock, or maybe due to my horrible ability to deal with absolutely any and everything.

My color was black.

Some will say that black isn’t a color at all, but whatever it is, black is all I could muster up, as far as memory goes. My hair was still soaking wet, but the shower head was turned off, and the tub I was laid out in was dry. I shook my head and ran my hands over my clean shaven face before attempting to stand on my own two, before my shaky legs brought me back down.

I groaned to myself as I gave it another go, knowing I’d have to use more of my upper body strength to stand. Putting both hands on the edge of the bathtub, I gripped and pulled myself up until I spilled on the floor like a glass of milk. Crawling towards the door, I eventually pulled the door open to see an empty bedroom, with a piece of paper on the bed.

I picked it up, held it a few inches from my face, and read it out loud.

“All you ever wanted was to forget. You’re free now.”

I did not know the significance of this letter, but I knew I felt a bit differently after reading it. I went back into the bathroom, looked in the mirror, and was pleased with what I saw looking back at me. A young, astute, clean shaven man, ready to take the world by the throat and make it kneel at his will.

Something told me to reach into the drawer on the right end of the sink, so I did. Inside were a singular bullet and a 9mm handgun. I stared at it for a minute, wondering if this was the right thing to do. A lot of my life had come down to simply doing the right thing, something I failed at so many times before, but every day was a new opportunity to be a new you.

My color was white.