Wednesday, December 14, 2016

30 day writing challenge day 2 the color of my walls

The whiteness reminds me of a hospital room, cold clinical, with no escape. I feel like a prisoner in my own room. The walls make me feel claustrophobic, angry, with all the bitter memories of what, once was. Not what has been, because people in a clincal setting don't comprehend the blank feeling.

As I look out my window to see more write as it blankets the ground, with the crunch of cold wet snow right below my feet. Cold wet snow from here to across the yard. It attracts the dirt, the grime, and the emotions that people have left behind. A sad walk, or someone running. We all know what life is like when things are white and beautiful. But as soon as the time passes we're back to yellow snow, and dirty walls.

The emptiness, the lonelyness, and everything in between. I'm wondering what life would be like if things weren't so white and perfect. Perfect isn't ever a reality. It's just a dream, left for the world to see. Like an open book, and forgotten memories. It's the way children are led to believe. They're led to believe that everything is white and beautiful. When the world is black and cold. Life is cold. Everyone in it is cold. We're just robotic sheep, hoping the wolf doesn't swallow us whole. The wolf in this white clean clear world. 

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