"What's your favourite colour now ?", he asked.
I looked up at him and sighed. Where this was going, I knew.
I looked back down at my feet as they kicked the grass.
"Well, green, yellow, purple, gray, cream, white, black, blue too."
"Last time I asked you, you said yellow. And the time before that ..."
"... I said it was black. I know I know. I can explain. Or try."
Puzzled, he looked on and gestured, signalling me to start.
"You see when I was a kid ..." I said as I began to cry.
"...my favourite colour was purple. Because I was lost, conflicted,hurt..."
"...I had a darkness in me, but a lot of happiness too. Purple reflected me."
"...beautiful in the darkness that it is.", I picked up some dirt.
"...about a year later, my favourite colour became brown. Everything, tasteless. Okay, I seemed."
"...but on the inside, this dirt felt better than I did. I felt worthless & without purpose. The world wasn't my place to stay."
I carefully let the dirt slip from my hands and back unto the ground. Where it came from.
"...why I felt that way, you ask ? Well, that's another story for another day."
"Over the years, the colours changed according to how I changed. Went from feeling like diamonds, to crumbs."
"Yellow, for when I felt all bubbly and extra happy."
"Green and White for when I felt like the Nigerian flag."
"Blue, for when I felt at peace with myself. I found serenity."
"Gray, for when I felt neutral. Neither here nor there. What I felt, I couldn't quite tag."
"Now, I feel everything at once. I can't quite differentiate. I'm happy and I'm sad."
"You see, colours are a lot more than what they are meant to be, to me."
"I'm weird, I know." I smile sheepishly and move the hair from my face to the back of my ears. "You think I'm mad ?"
He smiles back and says, "No, I understand. You're a little crazy but you're beautiful still. Breathe."
"Cut!!", the director yells. "You guys pulled it off! Wonderful. Be here same time tomorrow."
"Ugh, finally." I mutter under my breath. We'd been trying to nail that scene for days.
"God knows I don't understand that script. So weird, right?" My co-actor says to me. I laugh, "Yup! Later. I've got to go."
And with that I leave, with my earphones in my ears, moonwalking to my car as Natasha Beddingfield's Unwritten plays.
I looked up at him and sighed. Where this was going, I knew.
I looked back down at my feet as they kicked the grass.
"Well, green, yellow, purple, gray, cream, white, black, blue too."
"Last time I asked you, you said yellow. And the time before that ..."
"... I said it was black. I know I know. I can explain. Or try."
Puzzled, he looked on and gestured, signalling me to start.
"You see when I was a kid ..." I said as I began to cry.
"...my favourite colour was purple. Because I was lost, conflicted,hurt..."
"...I had a darkness in me, but a lot of happiness too. Purple reflected me."
"...beautiful in the darkness that it is.", I picked up some dirt.
"...about a year later, my favourite colour became brown. Everything, tasteless. Okay, I seemed."
"...but on the inside, this dirt felt better than I did. I felt worthless & without purpose. The world wasn't my place to stay."
I carefully let the dirt slip from my hands and back unto the ground. Where it came from.
"...why I felt that way, you ask ? Well, that's another story for another day."
"Over the years, the colours changed according to how I changed. Went from feeling like diamonds, to crumbs."
"Yellow, for when I felt all bubbly and extra happy."
"Green and White for when I felt like the Nigerian flag."
"Blue, for when I felt at peace with myself. I found serenity."
"Gray, for when I felt neutral. Neither here nor there. What I felt, I couldn't quite tag."
"Now, I feel everything at once. I can't quite differentiate. I'm happy and I'm sad."
"You see, colours are a lot more than what they are meant to be, to me."
"I'm weird, I know." I smile sheepishly and move the hair from my face to the back of my ears. "You think I'm mad ?"
He smiles back and says, "No, I understand. You're a little crazy but you're beautiful still. Breathe."
"Cut!!", the director yells. "You guys pulled it off! Wonderful. Be here same time tomorrow."
"Ugh, finally." I mutter under my breath. We'd been trying to nail that scene for days.
"God knows I don't understand that script. So weird, right?" My co-actor says to me. I laugh, "Yup! Later. I've got to go."
And with that I leave, with my earphones in my ears, moonwalking to my car as Natasha Beddingfield's Unwritten plays.
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