She found herself embellished with little blue dots. Perfectly round, a slight sheen, and perfumed with placidity. What a feeling. She never felt that confident, that popular, and if I should say so myself, that powerful.
The colour of her soul, that many associated with words which weren’t ones she had heard of; that she started to take for granted. She began to define herself with the negatives that colour was affiliated with. But that was merely a tinge of her personality.
She loved blue because that’s what she used to paint the skies when she was a child. Regardless of it being night or day, she would paint the skies with every tint and shade she could mix up. She loved blue because that’s the colour that made messages on handmade cards pop out the brightest. Blue made uncomfortable, fluffy dresses seem bearable. Blue was the colour of her pencil box, her piggy bank, her school crest, the colour of the first ever friendship band she received. Blue was always around, in forms of flowers, flavours of the best chips, the dog who would provide clues, m&ms, a monster, a forgetful fish, a genie, a smurf and so much more.
As she grew older she found out that blue was supposed to mean gloomy, vulnerable, indifferent, and the like. Well, what a way to burst her bubble. Another thing she’d always paint blue.
So where does that leave her now?
It leaves her more in love with that colour. The flaws are so intriguing that she couldn’t help but be associated with them. Today she paints herself blue, with all its pros and cons. It’s the colour that gives her peace, that triggers a smile, it’s the colour that she always had by her side. It’s her shade of sanity.