Red

Red haunts me.

Those maroon-tinted fists trembling uncontrollably; magenta lips quivering in pain; bloodshot eyes darting frantically, searching for an answer.

It hurts to see her like this. Yet, I felt so helpless. I was just a naive boy after all. So I controlled what I thought I could—my presence in her life.

“Mom! I won the essay competition!” I chirped.

She smiled and affectionately patted my head.

For once, her brows were not furrowed with worry, and her eyes free from crimson undertones. I confided in the blissfulness I felt in the absence of the color red, albeit briefly. It struck me that as long as I kept her (and I) distracted with new and exciting milestones, I could keep red at bay.

Classes, meetings, competitions, training, and camps consumed my life. Red can’t touch me if I am chasing gold. I constantly concealed the red blotches I encountered with shimmering gold pigment, omitting details about my struggles and emphasizing the grandeur of my achievements. It seemed as if I was that well-put-together kid who was set for life. But those impressive accolades stood lifelessly in my display cabinet gathering dust.

Gold has never looked duller.

Time flew by as I continued my pursuit of gold. Chinese New Year angbaos (red envelopes) were buried under piles of robot parts; ruby mistletoe berries wilted as I rehearsed the steps to a marching drill. Unsurprisingly, outings with friends were practically non-existent as my schedule simply did not allow for it. I could not spare time for gatherings and celebrations when I was inundated with deadlines, or so I thought.

Life seemed pleasant without the color red. I was coping well with school and more importantly, I wasn’t bothering her with unnecessary problems. But this aversion to red has inadvertently pushed others away. Relationships became transactional: I should befriend him to build connections with his organization; I should help her so she owes me a favor. This didn’t phase me much until I realized how emotionally distant I became towards her. The very person I avoided red for.

Cold. Self-centered. Apathetic.

I despised the person I became. I knew that I could not escape red no matter how hard I tried. Because red had been what I needed all along. I needed someone to share my joy and disappointment with, someone who wouldn’t care if my face turns red from laughter or a night of sobbing. When I distanced myself from red, I thought I was protecting myself and the people around me from getting hurt, but in truth, I was denying them by not allowing them to fully know me. Behind that indifferent, monochromatic facade was a vulnerable kid yearning for meaningful relationships. By embracing the countless shades of red, I’m doing myself and the people I care about a favor.

I was so used to attributing my identity to material achievements that when it came to emotionally connecting with her, I felt lost. There were so many stories that I had brushed off over the years, deeming them unworthy of her attention. But as we reminisced about those seemingly insignificant events, our cheeks turned scarlet from a combination of happiness and embarrassment. There was beauty in simply being there for one another.

While red has its negative associations with anger and violence, this goes hand in hand with passion and love. Why fight for something you don’t feel strongly about? My concern for someone drove my actions, but I must navigate the unpredictable terrain of emotions it entails. My encounter with red has taught me a way to reach out to others—through compassion and solidarity. But this is not the end of my journey. Red permeates all facets of my life. It’s only a matter of time before I notice the subtle crimson undertones in seemingly unassuming affairs.