I used to trail colours when I walked. Red, blue, yellow, orange, purple, green, like streamers erupting from my hands. I used to paint the bare trees full of bright green leaves, and birds-of every colour and size. I’d paint wide smiles on people’s faces, and when I cried, my tears were the brightest blue imaginable.
But then the words came.
The words that threw themselves at me, leeching me of all my colour, rendering me a greyscale version of my former self. “Boys don’t paint”, they said. “Toughen up”, “Weirdo”, “Freak”. “Worthless”.
And so I stopped.
The trail behind me dried up, the trees remained leafless and grey, and the people mourned.
But what they didn’t know was that on the inside, I was still exploding with colour.
Redpurplegreenblue flowing through my veins. Orangeyellowpinkblack in every heartbeat, every breath in my lungs.
I was an explosion, barely contained in glass shell. And we all know what happens to glass under pressure.
I’m sitting right now on the edge of the school rooftop. As soon as I finish this letter, I will close my eyes. And I will fall.
And my colours will fucking explode.
-Inspired by I’ll Give You The Sun.