Lack of Color

I think I am getting angry all over again. I say I have moved on. I have mourned. Been through the five stages of grieving. That's false. There are way more stages. Try a million. Sadness. Anger. Hatred. Obsession. Neurosis. Psychosis. Happiness. Morbidity. Disgust. Perversion. Maybe a million and one. But I won't name them all.

I'm not sure what sparked me to think about all this today. Why I can't get this out of my head. Why today. There's no date significance. I didn't have a sighting. Perhaps it's because I read an article about a 35 year old virgin. Or an article that a newly divorced guy just wrote about how to be a good husband. But in any case. It's on mind so here goes.

How dare you?
How dare you.

I gave you everything. Everything. I lost all of me. In you. I gave up my whole being for you. To make you happy. To satisfy you. I dedicated my life to you.

You. You in your pressed shirt. Dry cleaned pants. Neat and trimmed chin strap beard. Always so put together. Go ahead, shine your shoes. Take out that polish from the top of your closet. Shine your damn shoes.

Me. Me in my random colors. Me in my free spirit. My love for people. My need for randomness and excitement.

It wasn't me that changed. I have always been the same. You were the one that changed. Or maybe we saw each other's true colors. You in your lack of color. Me in my abundance of color. You wanted me to be drained of all color. And I wanted you to add color. The mixture clashed. It always ended up in a mud brown tone. Hideous. Painful. Horrifying. Disastrous.

You might ask why I still wonder why you gave it all up. Why you walked out on me. Why I cannot move. Forgive. Because. I don't walk away. I don't give up. I am worth fighting for. I am not to be given away. Discarded. I am loyal. I am a friend. I can be counted on. I am worth loving.

So go about your life. As if I never existed. Go about your day to day routine. And just remember that those bright colored, pressed shirts you wear were bought by me. I was the color in your dreary life. You can never erase me. Blot me out. I will always be a part of your color block. One bright, shiny color in your past.