"Wow, look how beautiful the sunrise is." I gazed in awe as the colors twinkled in the sky. The colors went from a bright pastel pink to a fiery hot mess, waiting to be swept clean by the blue paintbrush.
"Did you know the more colorful a sunrise or sunset is the worse the planet has become?" She bit off a piece of her warm biscuit and looked at me with innocent eyes.
"What?" I clamped my mouth tight.
"Oh yeah, it's indicating that there is a ton of pollution in the atmosphere. So, you start off with the main two molecules in the air, nitrogen, and oxygen. They scatter the shortest wavelengths, the blues, and purples. Basically, that's why the sky is blue. The sky would be purple if it weren't for our sensitive eyes that peak in the green part of the spectrum—which is closer to blue than purple. If our sensitive eyes peaked at some other part of the spectrum, the sky wouldn't be blue normally."
"And what does that even have anything to do with indicating a bad planet?" I questioned.
"Well, the scattering of the molecules only radiates a reddish, perhaps orange color or whatever you see. Everyone knows that pollution isn't the only thing that creates beautiful skies. The scattering of molecules starts it off with the first layer of beautiful color. But when the sky looks like you put a saturation filter on it—you know how some people overdo the saturation on Instagram? Yeah, that's caused by pollution and dust. We release more polluting chemicals and sulfuric acids into the atmosphere than we have of natural resources—and bam, a perfect mixture for the most gorgeous sky ever."
"Wow, just wow." I looked up into the sky to see the colors intermingling together as if someone accidentally spilled fluffy cotton candy in space. "And is this supposed to make me feel better?"
"Not really," she stuffed her face with the rest of the biscuit, "educational mostly. You can try to make some meaning out of it and connect to society but good luck."
"Challenge accepted." I closed my eyes and placed my index fingers on the sides of my head, summoning any speck of imagination left in my brain. "I got it."
She almost choked on the biscuit as she looked up at the sky and then back up at me. "This is going to be interesting."
"Okay, well, here goes. You know how you told me that you don't feel pretty? Even with makeup on? I feel like you've lost your connection with how you really look like. Sure, makeup is absolutely amazing and it literally is another form of art. I feel like we humans always try to cover up our flaws with chemicals and end up damaging something that was beautiful, to begin with. No child will tell you that they want to change their nose size or make their eyes a certain way. They'll say that they want wings or dinosaur claws. Ask a teenager and they'll tell you that they want to change their weight. Everyone always tries to find something even better than what they have. And I'm not saying that being determined is bad—hell no, go succeed. I'm saying—make it worth it. Our natural colors are suppressed by this toxic form of life that we feed to ourselves and to others around us. Just like this sky. We can't see the natural colors because of the harmful chemicals we topple on the atmosphere. Sure, the sunset looks beautiful. Sure, that extra bronzer might make your cheeks look toned. But just imagine constantly doing that—year after year, after year? Too much of something is never good. We won't be able to show the beauty of the sky to our grandchildren if we strip the sky from its colors now and fill it with toxic chemicals. I wish we could step back and look at ourselves while we lay underneath the mesmerizing sky—in our natural forms, with our natural smiles, to just feel natural."
Swallowing the last bit of biscuit, she started to slowly clap. "That, my friend, was the most natural thing I have ever heard."
"By the way, how many times did I repeat natural?"
"Enough to make me feel unnatural."
I glared at her as she started to laugh, holding her sides and smacking her knee. I slid my hand down my face and, in an exaggerated way, sighed really loudly. "I don't like you anymore."
She wiped away an imaginary tear from her eye and through her muffled chuckles said, "You wish you could get rid of me but I'm staying here to annoy you forever underneath this beautifully polluted sky."
YOU ARE READING
therapy
Short Story"they told us that we needed therapy, as if medication and tainted words could fix broken toys."
