The Tritanope (morose and blues)

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The minuscule ray of light gushing through your window blinds is telling you something hopeful like, “Good morning.” And as if by instinct, you’d be darting your eyes to that familiar stain or pattern on the ceiling which would remind you of the word “aphophenia” or was it “pareidolia?” Such beautiful words but do not even make any sense.

Your mind is wide awake, albeit, you’re not what they call morning lark or regular robin. Your body’s wishing to lay still, savoring the soft fabric on your skin, battling for a 5-minute-more back to slumber. But a picture of a steamy jet black coffee that you adore much, seated in a cup, suddenly impinges through your senses…and oh wait, you’re trying to construct its strong aroma, seducing, but you failed, and that’s only then you decide to get up.

It might not be painted on your innocent face nor what your tongue mostly preach but inside your skull is a constant split of two of thunderstorms and of gray hues or pinks, reds, or hues of blacks, but the absence of blues.

You’ve often heard about blues than not. ‘Is it a myth? or another shade of black?’ thought you. ‘That color they call blue must be exquisite,’ you’d ruminate, and decided it should be your favorite color, instead of red and black. Hence, you wonder, then, how would it feel to be in the eye of another.

You grew addicted to blue or even obssesed with it, although, you never sensed nor tasted it. You just heard it by its name, and loved the idea of it.

Blue should be the color of hearts, or the moods of people in love. Or the sweetest apples, berries, and wines, and roses.

You’ve learned that blue dresses the deepest oceans and the colossal sky at days before the sun takes off and leave traces of orange, sometimes pitch or pale pink, just before black takes over.

And maybe, if typical trichromats just learn how to stop and stay still, cease to dance with the cacophony of this world, appreciates and savor the world a little, maybe it would make a difference. And you caught yourself laughing at the thought of that.

Then you stopped, silencing the thunderstorms in your head…sitting still, enjoying your lukewarm jet black coffee seated in your cup, your chest breathing, thanking God you’re breathing, still.

It has never crossed your mind. Hues of blue has been the feels that kept you alive, it is the mood you’ve been through…you are thinking blue.

You felt morose and blue.


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