the sunset pt. 2

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I hate yellow. Maye had left a box for me, encased in it a sunny blouse. I had barely seen what I was becoming until I had already crossed, and I stared at my reflection in distress. The color emphasized the cuts still stained on my body from when you came, my dried eyes morphing into discontent.

    Maybe that's why I fell in love with the black accompanying the lights dancing across the sky. The lack of morality gave them such a choice, ironic as it seems. In this world, everything is quiet. No sound, no memories, no pain. Simply stillness.

    But then, what am I?

    Am I nothing, as you told me?

    No matter how disruptive my opinion, I refuse to accept that. Maybe once I had dwindled, disappearing at such a notion. Now, I grab the yellow blouse with fury, placing myself in front of my door. It itched, but as terrible as it felt, I keep walking, until the door slams behind me. The determination boiling through my veins left my body quaking with adrenaline, my vision spotting.

    Is this what reality looks like?

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