When I was young, life was easy. The world was divided into black and white. There was good and evil and the good people let pedestrians pass and kept to the left side of the road when they drove.
The first time I read a book, something changed and something broke. I started yearning for faraway places where the sky reflected the sea and my black and white world became tinged with blue.
The first time a friend held my hand and told me about his hopes and dreams, my heart started longing for freedom too. We got an Atlas off the highest shelf in the school library and traced all the places we’d go. We’d wade in the blues and walk on the green and hence, I began to feel the tugs of a cool emerald of a life I had yet to live.
The first time I fell in love, I felt something fracture inside me as blood, hot and red started pouring from every crack and crevice that every longing had left behind as I’d started saying goodbye to the dreams I couldn’t fulfill.
The first time my friend told me he was running away from his home to live with the boy he loved, he gave me all the colors of the rainbow as he left me with the promise that it is always okay to be what we are, that the purpose of life isn’t to walk until you can’t do so anymore, it’s to walk with someone you love. He left me with the promise that the destination doesn’t matter as long as the journey is a happy one.
When I was young, dawn was breaking over the horizon, white and pure but now I’m grown and it’s sunset and I’m bathed in colors that are as far from black and white as can be.
And I find that though they are quite significant, black and white will never again be the only colours on my palette.
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