Three Octaves Shy of Middle Cerulean

I miss colors.

Some of the others here- I wouldn't call them friends- some of the others say they miss warmth, or touch. But me? I miss colors.

I was never that big on warmth in the first place, and as for touch- this numbness is preferable to what I felt... before. But colors... no, it was definitely better when there were colors.

Although I guess they're still there. They must be. Surely the people of the world would have made a bigger fuss if they'd disappeared. But no one has said anything, so they must still be there- it's just I can't see them anymore.

Then again, no one made any fuss when I disappeared. Does that mean I'm still there, but unable to see myself?

I never used to have thoughts like this... before.

Sometimes I wonder why the colors went away. Why warmth went away, and touch, and smell. And I assume taste, but since I don't eat anymore, I'm not really sure. I wonder why all these things went away, but I can still hear. Sort of. Sometimes. If I concentrate. Everyone's voice sounds the same, now.

I don't know why.

Maybe voices are somehow tied to colors. Maybe your voice is the color of your... thoughts? Or maybe colors are the voice of your... soul? Does a flower have a voice? Does it have a soul?


...do I?



(Small Wild Flowers in Black and White)