Member-only story
Fiction Friday
A quiet room. A blank wall. Is this all I have left to live for? Sometimes I wonder whether it’s worth it. I’ve thought about that a lot since I’ve been here. I’ve thought about lots of things. It’s the only thing to do. Sometimes I think back to before I came here. When life was more colourful, and less silent. But that was then, and this is now, and anyway, things back then brought their own problems.
Sometimes, I try to imagine a splash of colour, like before. Colours weren’t that noticeable then, but I think I appreciated them all the same. Maybe I didn’t. Maybe I took them for granted, like everything else. What I wouldn’t give for some colour now. A bit of purple, a smidge of pink, a splash of red. What I wouldn’t give for a splash of red. The colour of passion, of love, of danger.. of life itself.
This blank space makes you crazy. It makes you think of life. It’s like you’re slowly watching it ebb away, and while there’s a part of you that tries desperately to claw back every single moment of it, part of you just longs for the end. I’ve done both things. Sometimes at different times, sometimes at the same time.
I used to dream in colour, but not anymore. It’s like I forgot how to over time. I still remember them. I remember them vividly, but that’s all they are — memories. It seems strange, this blankness. It should be black here…
