Green

““She thinks about all of the beautiful things rain can do for this world. Flowers. Trees. Cleansing. Growth. Rainbows.””

She wishes she wasn’t scared. She wishes she could be as free and happy as everyone says she is. She wishes she could be herself. She feels as though if she were to let her real self out from inside the caged walls she has put up, everyone will run away. She feels like the sunshine that they say she is will turn into rain. And no one wants rain.

She likes rain. She thinks about all of the beautiful things rain can do for this world. Flowers. Trees. Cleansing. Growth. Rainbows. She likes rain, but not everyone likes rain.

She does care that people like her. She doesn’t really care if people don’t  like her, but she does care that people like her- if that makes sense? If someone doesn’t like her, it bothers me for a brief second and then she lets it go. It doesn’t bother her when people don’t like her. 

But she cares when people do like her. She wishes everyone could. She wishes she could be sunshine for everyone. She wishes she could cure everyone’s sadness. Make them laugh, really feel it in their abdomen. Forget their worries, just for those five seconds of laughter.

She does care that people like her, and for those people who do- she feels so much pressure to be their sunshine.

She feels so much pressure to be yellow because everyone else already has so much blue. Everyone else has taken all of the blue onto their palette. Everyone else is so badly in search of yellow paint for their paintings. And she has it.

And so she shares it with them.

To have yellow, to be yellow, does not mean she is any better than a blue. She is not any more worthy of painting a picture of life than another, not any better a person, She has no better a palette. She just means to say that she has an abundance of yellow and she wishes someone might come along and help her create green.