Summary:

That color ran through my veins. It once did. I remember. I loved it. That color. It was so beautiful.

It did. Once.

Red it was.

A brief overview of my life: In my life, I was considered an evil person. Perhaps I was. But, if I was-truly an evil person- it was for my obsession. My obsession with the color red. Until that color red became the color blue.

It’s funny, really. How evil can come out of something you hold dear-something you love with all your heart. And when I mean evil, I mean death.

Is death truly evil?

Is it really something that is considered a profound immorality? Or is it something we-no- you, foolish humans fear and consider immoral. Isn’t death the evidence that one has lived. The pain at the end of a your life is what proves that you have lived a life worth living. And the pain that you feel is really the true proof that you are living. At the end of my life, I did not feel any pain.

I wonder why...