Right now, I am red. When I was sitting in the warmth of the sun, while the music wrapped around me like a quilt, and there was no one around I was yellow. But right now I am red. I can feel in festering and boiling in my chest, clawing up my throat and burning the tip of my tongue like acid. Only you make me this shade of red, and I know this is because you yourself are red. When you make me red I want to scream, but I know you still wouldn't listen. I could be screaming at the top of my lungs crying and you would turn on your heels and walk away without a second glance. It's your way or no way and that's why I’m red. Every time you open your mouth all I feel is red. Like a waste plant you emit a deadly glow, a deep, dark red glow. But after red, I feel blue. When you leave the room blue pushes behind my eyes. It threatens to break the dam and flood. Now I am blue. It’s a crippling blue, the kind of blue that makes you condense to nothing but a small child left alone in the grocery store, alone and scared. There's no running, there's no hiding, no one is there the only thing to do is embrace the blue and let it wash over you like the cold, salty ocean waves. Blue is the bottom of the ocean where you can’t see 1 inch from your face and you have no clue which way is up, it's all-consuming. After hours and hours of blue burning my eyes and heaving around in my lungs, I feel grey. Grey is a dark room with t.v. stuck on static, it’s completely maddening and empty. I don’t want to be grey, I don’t want to be stuck in that dark room. Grey means I’m not red or blue or yellow or brown, it means I’m nothing. It means I’m an empty canvas vulnerable and susceptible to all the different colors. Throughout my day I change colors constantly, red, yellow, green, blue. When the bell for lunch rings I’m yellow, when people stop in the middle of the hallway I’m red, and when he calls me pretty I’m bright pink. I may not like red, blue, or grey but without them, yellow isn't as bright and pink isn’t so exciting.