Thoughts on a Rainy Day

It's funny the way I sit here, just gazing out the window and into the abyss. It's as if the thunder, rain, and haze of city sounds have composed for me my very own symphony. It's not an extravagant piece of music, but it soothes me, and reminds me of a time where everything was right and I was loved. It makes me think how naïve we are as children. Although we see the world in an extravagant color, we think that life is black and white, yet reality is quite the opposite. Life is full of color, not always pleasing to the eye or soul, but color nonetheless; this certainty makes the dye of the world fade away. The green trees are drained to gray and the sapphire sky to white. We grow up, though, and we become so accustomed to it that we hardly know of what is missing; until we fall in love. Love brings the color back to the world, and it brightens the shades of life. Every day seems a little brighter and everything becomes a little more pleasant to endure. Music is more euphonious, every breath is an aroma like fine perfume, and every drink is a bit sweeter; as if we were all living on nectar.

Love is indeed grand at the very least. Everything, however, has a counterpart. Fire has water, light has the darkness, and love has something all its own. Losing love drains us of that color of the world and of life in an instant. We abhor the thought of a colorless world that once was such the norm. So, as I gaze out my window, all I can long for is the hues of life and the world to return. I long for that color that I once had within me, and I detest the fact that I can barely recall what it had once looked and felt like. I know that the color exists somewhere, though, and I pity those who have forgotten it altogether. My dull, toneless, monochrome world is one of hope; one day I shall only see through eyes of color.