(I found this is in my tumblr drafts dated 2016 April 14)
“If you were are a color, you’d probably be orange. Not red. Red is a strong color. But you, you’re orange. Orange communicate this subtle feeling. And you, You’re orange.” said Gladston, fingers tracing the outline of the sunset filled with tangerine colors.
It was sunset.
The sky was filled with the enormity of the abundance of tangerine. Our gaze towards the sky above us, the sunset was coming to a fade.
“I hate the color Purple” Gladston’s eyes fixated on the horizon.
“But when I look at myself. I see Purple. It’s me” Gladston continued.
I was listening to Gladston’s insight on colors and people when a sudden realization popped. I looked at the sunset once more and concluded how often we misconstrue people.
“Impressions do not usually align with the reality of things” I told myself.
Gladston, eyes still fixed on the sky.
I, on the other side, fixed on the outline of Gladston’s face.
I thought of the color Purple and did not see Gladston.
Gladston was different.
Gladston was iridescent.
“Are you familiar with that feeling? When the door sign says “pull” but your heart says “push”? Things feel like that when I’m with you.”
“You are the contradiction in my heart. The struggle. The confusion. The storm, and all things complicated. You are the push to the pull. You are my tangled earphones every morning when I walk to work. You are the forbidden thought, and the greatest “No” my heart has ever told me.”
These thoughts came in like raging waves,
but never said it out loud,
because I was Orange.