Frankly, I wish i could not give a damn.

Some people see life through rose-tinted glasses. Others see it in technicolour, a bright kaleidescope reflecting the hues of the rainbow. Some though, like myself, see it black and white.
Life is a stage, and everyone must play their part. What if all the characters were bereft of colour, and life was a series of 1930s reruns.
I cannot see the grays, in people, in situations, in moments. Someone once said to me that I am perhaps bordering on manic depression- highs so high that I cannot breath. The sun so bright it threatens to blind, euphoria that aphyxiates. Lows that compare to the hades. Where the pain burns like the fires of hell for eternity.

People are good or the are evil. I love you or I hate you. I cannot see that you are only human, and like myself, perhaps you feel drawn to me, but you also feel the need to protect yourself from me. Or perhaps, like me, your life is not just about one person.

If you live every day of your life like it was the last, one day you will be right. These were the words of a friend, words that ring with pessimism, and are yet so true. In a world that is black and white, I can only see the glimmer of colour when there is another way out. When my life is about to change, or when I realise it could end at any moment. Only when these thoughts come to mind, do I find the courage to add colour to my palette.

If Love is truly blind, then perhaps I would rather not see,for I would rather be caught up in such sightless emotion, then to continue being merely, colour blind.