The Color White

The Color, White.
It is my favorite color.
But to know why I like it so, you must fully understand white.
It is the color of none, and the eradicator of all. It retains its innocence, and yet can be the harbinger of atrocity, the holding cell of all that is wrong in this world.
Dentist's offices are white.
Doctor's offices are white.
Some kinds of padded cells are white.
Laboratories are white.
By now, you may be asking, "If white can be so terrible, why are these places white? Don't they do good for humanity?"
Well, friend, (and may I call you friend?) there are many answers to that question. And although you probably can already guess what I am about to say, your mind does not want you to. So I shall tell you myself.
Accidents.
Low surgery success odds.
Shady discount surgeons.
Practicioners that perhaps have more in common with Sweeney Todd than they like to admit.
Unwilling lab rats- the human kind.
Yes, these things happen, ridiculous though they may sound, and more often than you may think. Then again, so do miracles.
You can never know until it happens.
That's another thing about white- it is the color of mystery, yet it also can be an oracle of truth.
Bloodstains are hard to wash.
White can be helpful; it can cover blemishes in a house when painted on over wood putty. It works, believe me.
And yet, white can also be detrimental, as the pupiless eyes of the blinded can attest.
It is such a beautiful, wonderful absence and presence of color, one with near limitless raw potential. When I could see, I always yearned to take that white, and to FILL it, to color it in, to dirty its purity, to satisfy that empty glare.
But now I know better.
Because when all you see is white, you realize there is no escape.
You learn to love it.
And through the suffering that wracks your mind, you begin to find it, the thing that fills the emptiness.
Through the blank, you hear that beautiful sound.
The slowing beats of another hollow heart put to rest.
And what need is there to see when such a sweet sound sooths your soul?
Every once in a while, I wonder what sights there are to see beneath the white. My mind wanders, and I cry and scream at what I imagine to be a loss.
But you know what?
That's just the darkness speaking.
I know the right path, and now you do, too, friend.
Oh, I must tell you one last fact about the marvelous color you call white.
Did you know that insane asylums are white?
They told me that when they found me, before I doused my eyes with cleaner.
Do not be surprised if your backpack is slightly heavier.
I took the liberty of putting a small water bottle of bleach inside.
Have a nice day.
Friend.
Category:Mental Illness
Category:Reality