Young Writers Society

Ohh, I sense a really deep message in your portrayal of colors! I’ve always thought about this kind of topic as well, like how do other people perceive colors? Some people might see green when other see blue. It reminds me sorta of how light bends to generate color. By mixing and combining the light of different wavelengths, a full spectrum of color can be created This is how colors are made with light. Even now as I grow older, this perception of color in others eyes has always been a huge interest and a question I’d love to hear the answer too!
Hope you have a good morning, afternoon, night. ☺️

Good Morning/Afternoon/Evening/Night(whichever one it is in your part of the world),

Hi! I'm here to leave a quick review!!

First Impression: Well this was quite the piece here. There's just so many elements to it and it really does end up hitting incredibly hard there as a result. Many things that you're left thinking about and it almost seems to be a journey through this person's entire life too.

Anyway let's get right to it,

Lately, I've been trying to see more color, even though I never thought that it was something I should have to try to do. The grass is always green. The dahlias are always pink. The sky is always blue. And even though I haven't seen color in a long time, I know this is true.

I know this because that's the way things have always been. Like how my favorite color has always been pink, even though in sixth grade I told everyone it was blue. And how my eyes have always been grey, even though everyone else calls them blue. And how the color of my hair has always been brown, even though everyone always used to say it was black.

I used to think your hair was black, too. I guess that makes me like everyone else.

The sun looks yellow until it peeks through between my blinds, then it's golden. And it changes the color of everything else too. It touches the brown wood and it becomes orange. It touches the grey walls and they become blue.

I've always wondered if people can see colors the same way. Is the green of the grass my green or is it yours? If I wore your eyes, would I see purple? When I think of you, I think about the picture on the wall: you're lying in the grass of the backyard of our first home. I'm sitting there beside you; I couldn't be more than a year old. And we're both wearing pink.

Moxie, our bulldog, is in that picture too. I can't say I remember much about Moxie except the day she went somewhere I couldn't follow. Mami came up into my room that morning to wake me and tell me. I didn't believe her, because she was still sleeping on her bed in the garage. She just wasn't waking up, no matter how hard I shook her to wake her up.

Mami always told me not to feed tortilla chips to Moxie. But Moxie was my buddy, so I'd give them to her anyway. Buddies share snacks with each other. For a long time, I thought it was my fault that Moxie left.

When I asked you what your favorite color was, you told me it was white. I didn't bother telling you white wasn't a real color. It made sense to me. Your big ol' Dodge truck is white. The Honda you bought for Grandma is white. The Volkswagen you bought for Mami is white. I wish you would have seen me in white.

It's too bad you left too. Remember how I'd sneak you baklava like you asked? Another buddy goes somewhere I can't follow. After all, who would make breakfast for my husband if I left? Who would braid my sister's hair? Who would cheer at my brother's basketball games? And who would bake their birthday cakes?

If I did follow you, would you know me? Would I know you? Would you see me in pink, white, grey, or blue? And if I did follow you, would I find you? I tend to get lost. More than likely, I'd end up in the next town over.

I wish you'd pray with me before bed, like you used to. Not that it would matter; I don't think I could believe in god ever again.