The Color Black
Colors were always associated with feelings since a young age. Yellow indicated happiness was surrounding me, red was what clouded my eyes when all I felt was anger, blue danced across my vision when the world seemed to crumble at my feet, the only color I never had the pleasure of meeting was black. It had no meaning in my world, I always felt like there was no reason for me to ever try to understand the color that was commonly attached to the feelings of darkness, emptiness, and a broken spirit.
That was till I actually had the chance to sit within myself and understand the depth of those feelings and that the meaning was just the peak of itâs understanding. That even beauty grows out of the darkest of nights, no matter how much surrounds you and how crushed you feel, there is always a small chance that something can grow from that feeling and turn into a new chapter.Â
The night it happened was one I will never forget. It made me remember all the times that the color black had lingered on the edge of my life, how it stayed a good distance as if telling me ânow is not the time my child, soon I will introduce myself, but now is anotherâs time to shineâ as she stepped back just out of reach to let another color take her spot. Those times when I thought it was black, were actually blue, red, and sometimes a mix of the two whom I associate with purple. Because even during those hard times, black knew that she wasnât the color I needed to see.
She didnât fight for control over me like the other colors did, nor did she show herself in all her glory when I first met her. Black waited for her time to control, she spoke comforting words and listened as my heart sank to the floor. She reminded me of a friend, someone I could turn to when nothing seemed right, it felt like she had known me for so long and could understand everything before I even told her what transgressions I faced. Black gripped my hand and raised me from the ground after blue stomped on my heart, and left me a crying mess on the floor. She brought ointment after redâs fiery grasp held me by my throat for so long that I swore it left a handprint. She sat in the shade when yellow danced me across the days of my life when things were great, and not once did she complain, and not once did I know that she was the color black.
But when she introduced herself, it was the most freeing time I had in a while. It wasnât like how blue would crash down on me like the waves of an ocean looking to drown every ship in its waters, or like the rolling clouds of a terrible red storm looking to leave destruction after itâs end. No... black was a comforting color: when her silk like voice whispered to me guiding me through the darkness, how her cold hand reached across the veil to show she had no ill intentions, she beckoned me closer just on the brink of her edges before engulfing me completely.
When her cold hands slipped across my eyes, I felt like I could truly see. She showed all the wrongs that I had endured, all the times I let things slip past for the sake of keeping a calming atmosphere, and all the times others transgressions had cracked my barriers. She reintroduced me to those memories, saying how she had tried to heal what she could and left a temporary fix on those that she couldnât heal just right. Like a fairy godmother that appeared when I needed her most, she showed me that she was always there watching over me and helping me remain sane through the most troubling of times. I never associated those times with black, I always thought they were assigned to another color due to the feelings I had during those moments. And black reassured me, that I was in fact right of those feelings because they didnât break me the way that this time did.
The night my face illuminated from the artificial light of a cell phone. Black arose from her seat behind the curtains, gesturing to the other colors to sit down, because she knew from the sigh that escaped my lips that this was when I needed her most. Even when red stormed my mind, sinking his fangs into my throat to spit venom so acidic that it left craters in my opponent. When blue crashed into my heart and lungs like a freight train, demolishing any lingering feelings I had for you or any air that held onto hope that those messages didnât mean what I knew they meant. Black stood right on the edge of the water, hand extended out to me who still stood on the sandy beach, looking for a glimpse of yellow in the storm that surrounded me. With tears in my eyes I leapt into her comforting arms hoping that it would bring me some type of relief.
She turned into the night sky as we traveled through the dim lit streets as you attempted to find a solution. Comforting me with just her presence as you screamed harsh nothings, cried fake sorrows, and stumbled across an explanation that I never wanted. Hearing those things only made my colors grow stronger, and like the night sky the color black just awoke with every lie that snaked its way out of your mouth and into my mind. How beautiful she looked as her sharp claws picked up the broken feelings that tore through me from the crumpling world that was once filled with pink love. She picked up those broken pieces dusting them with a starry black night before building her empire, to sit and bask in while the world I built with you continued to concave on itself from the words you spoke.
I never felt the way I felt that night. No memory even came close to the swirl of emotions going through my body, and every time I saw you it was like looking at the shadowy form of a person I once thought I knew every color to. When blue begged for me to go home and was met with shouting, red took over and matched your energy. Not once caring about the way our colors clashed and mixed, how those mixing colors were affecting the new canvas that was our son who I prayed would never have to hear these colorful conversations. How your red held me in the car every time I tried to get out, or how you fought me to keep my seat belt on when I tried to take it off in order to escape the cramped feeling of that car that night.
When I finally was able to get out of that car, blue swarmed my eyes. Spilling through my tears as she washed my face clean of all the kisses and touches you left on my skin over the years. Red roared in my mind as I cursed you a fate worse than the torment that you put me through all of these years. But black, oh how black escaped my body, she stood side by side with me and lifted my head reminding myself that there was no reason to hang my head as if I was the one in the wrong in this situation. She squared my shoulders, helped me put one foot in front of the other, and gave me the final push it took to finally walk away from the loving feeling I once fought so hard to protect. She freed me from the armor I had set myself up in, replaced the shield I used to defend a dying love, with a dagger to kill off any lingering feelings I might still have for you. She freed me from a prison I didnât even know I was in.
Even when you stood in front of me with tears in your eyes, and pink on your tongue I knew that those colors werenât going to trap me again. I watched as you pushed our floating ships further and further away from each other with all the nonsense you spoke. The color black set her clawed hands on my back, strengthening my spine so that I would not bow to your power any longer. She kept my head held high, sharpening my gaze to show me that I was and will always be above you because even though we had different lives there was no reason for you to turn out as colorless as you did. The power I had when the stubborn green vines broke free from the ground, and wrapped around my feet and legs, grounding me to my spot proving that I would not move one step from the boundary that I had finally created for myself.
The color black united all my colors, as she stood side by side with me, did I realize there was no reason for me to understand the depth that is the feeling associated with her color. There was no reason because I had always known the color black, because she always stood behind me never too far from reach. She was the color of my shadow, the shade I hid in when the day was a little too yellow, the piece of rock I managed to grasp on when blue felt like drowning me, and the cave I hid in when the red storms wreaked havoc in my mind. The color black needed no introduction because she was with me since the beginning, and only she knew how to help me escape from the color pink that had led my life for several years.
The color black had no meaning in my world, but meant the world to me. She showed me that true colors, even the most alluring of them were associated with her in some way, shape, or form. Now no matter what I feel I always know that somewhere in the background the color black is pulling some strings for me. And even though she is still attached to the feelings of darkness, emptiness, and a broken spirit. I also learned that she has some powerful beauty to her as well. And because of that awakening I am no longer worried about the days that might seem a little gray or if I see black lingering just out of my reach. Because I know that when she does decide to stretch her arms out to me I will always welcome her with a warm hug, the color black to me will always be a sign of a new beginning and the end of a rough path.
