Colored - The Pilot Program 2021

Is it even love, if it’s predestined? I ask as my eye starts to itch. I forgot the medication again, just as I say that, I hear my mom screaming from downstairs to come get my meds. In a minute! Why does my eye color have to change now? I don’t feel ready for adult life, if anything I’m scared of it. Here’s your medication. What color do you think your eyes will turn into? Do you have any particular color? What if it turns into something like mine? Do you like it? It’s just as purple as when I met your father. God, you’re becoming a man. And what a man you’ll be. Mother’s been giddy for this ever since my eyes started to itch. Mom, please. I don’t know. I don’t feel ready. She laughs. Oh, don’t worry sweetheart. No one is ready. Food’s on the table, eat then go to school. Understood, Iro? She asks with a smile as she starts to run out the house. How do they have so much energy? Hope whoever I fall in love with is going to be a good person. The image of a bully of a woman pops into my mind as I start imagining how she’s going to kick my ass for everything I do wrong. Please turn into a good color.

Yo, Iro. I turn around to see Jim. What are you up to? Got your color yet? He always asks so smugly every day. No. He starts to chuckle. Of course not. You are not man enough. I sigh as hear these words for the nth time. Don’t get yourself bogged down by me. Once your color sets in, you’ll have many options to choose from. Isn’t that nice of them to at least still give you a choice with whom you’ll fall in love with? I want a girl that has long dark hair, mint green eyes, since mine are fuchsia and some nice legs. So many colors, so many choices and yet they say that the gods made us this way to make finding love easier. But how is this easier? So many things to keep track of and think about. He slaps me on the back. Don’t worry man. When you’ll see her, you’ll know. I turn towards him worried. How would you know that? He smiles. Because, I know. I made eye contact with someone with mint green eyes, it was pure bliss. I don’t know what it does to our brain, or how it works, but it’s fascinating. My heart starts racing and my palms get sweaty. It’s scary. And what if they’re a horrible human being? I ask as the bell rings. You’re too much of a worrywart, he says as he starts running, leaving me behind.

Each color vibes with its own set of two to four colors. While not 100% sure, scientists say that the color of your eyes doesn’t just determine your future partner in love, but also helps determine friendships, rivalries and some speculate even your social standing. Now, this does not mean you have the right to bully others or be mean to someone your color doesn’t resonate with. Once you have your determined eye color, you’re considered an adult. And adults don’t behave like that. But what if your eye color doesn’t change? And by the way, I know that the most of you are still going through the change, so, don’t worry if your eye color doesn’t change. It means you are one of the few special ones that is born with its predestined eye color. If you have any other question, I’m willing to answer them. As the professor says that my eyes start burning. I start screaming as I fall out of my chair to the ground holding my eyes. Iro, are you okay? Iro! It feels like my eyes are melting into my head. The teacher pulls my hands off my eyes. Iro. Your eyes. I haven’t seen anything like them… What are you?

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Colors (III)

It bleeds...

Blue, brown and green. One hundred and eight shades of everything. Sky high, but down low. Heart beating and no flow. Basic and simplistic, absolutely fantastic.

Where do you get these ideas?

I wish I knew how it worked.

Where do you get these ideas?

I ask myself that every day.

The unholy cliche of the dreams I've been having, the pallets I've been using, the taint that this is.

But what's the point?

I keep asking this too.

I absolutely hate it. The narrative I've created, the problems that I have, the stupidity I dwell on. I can't stand it. I wish I knew how.

It's confusing...

I know it is.

It's profuse.

I know it isn't. All I'm trying to do is save my skin by pretending I have something to do.

That's sad.

I've been thinking that too. I've been thinking a lot... When the abundance is beautiful, but it's drowning in the shadow of others. I have to ask, who is this for? Red, blue and violet, who goes and riots? I see nothing but gray, letting life live just in my imagination.

It's sad.

And when you can't see yourself, no more. When you know that everything will be gone to dust, sooner or later. It gets sadder.

But then again...

Yes? I'm listening.

Do you know what makes sense? The fact that you can still do it, a brush, a sketch, combined with all that pain, it goes a long way.

A brush, a sketch, combined with all that pain, you die, there's nothing, there's nobody... The long way that it goes, doesn't make sense. When after you're gone, there's no one left to ask you a why or how.

But pink, yellow and a little bit mellow, is what it’s about.

In a way, maybe. But when you have a rainbow, why would you go for something that's far below? While you can create wonders with just white, black, yellow and brown, why just limit yourself to what you have?

You forget the pink, red, and all the shades to come.

Yes, but I am none of them. I am me, and I don't want to be less.

That's pretentious, arrogant and stupid.

Then so be it, when it's all said and done, we're going where there are no shades, no brushes or sketches to be drawn. If I could change it, I would, but it's not that simple.

"What was I doing? I spaced out there... What was I doing?"

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