Colors

The world was dark. It always had been, really. That was just how I had grown to accept the world: in shades of gray, barely changing from the dullness that I experienced on the daily.

His world was bright. He described to me the colors around him, how beautiful it was. It wasn’t until I continually listened to him that I realized that I had begun to see the colors as well.

They surrounded me when he was around, making me smile and laugh with absolutely no control. I loved it. I loved him, I think.

But as I saw colors, he looked at me and saw those same shades of gray that I had been seeing practically my entire life. He didn’t smile or laugh when he looked at me. He simply stared.

I was meant for him, that was obvious. Why else would I be seeing the colors?

But apparently, he wasn’t meant for me. I wanted him to so desperately be. It wasn’t going to happen, I would realize.

And so, I gave up. The colors that had been dancing across my eyes faded back into black. Eventually, though, I would find colors again and they would be even brighter than before.