by Tuesday P.
The skies of a fantasy world stays vivid with the hues of pinks and purples, and as stormy as an author imagines it to be.
The skies of my reality, away from the safety of my desk and keyboard, are much duller than in my imagination. It is filled with unpredictable hues — sometimes that blue-pink-purple I dream of, but most times that eggshell blue and that overcast gray, accompanied by bad weather or too-hot days.
Maybe that’s why, as a growing young writer and individual, I preferred the scribbling of words and devouring of stories over what I had in front of me. Even with their warring continents and spanning kingdoms, the reality of muddy colors didn’t exist unless it needed to, and nothing ever happened without a purpose or a higher message. In the real world, people’s stories can stop before they are meant to finish and people can disappoint and abandon you, leaving behind cliffhangers that are never resolved and scars that will never heal. Reality hurt, which made turning to the safe havens of those blue-pink skies in novels that much easier.
I then had the privilege of meeting a colorful cast of people throughout my school years — the first being a girl I met in the sixth grade, who, within the jagged grey, was a bubblegum pink shade. I said hello, and she said it back. Now we still call all the time, exchanging gossip and beauty tips.
When the colorless reality starts becoming peppered with these bright colors, it becomes harder to remain a hermit within your work. Suddenly, the land of brave sword-wielding characters draws parallel to those of friends I met in real life, such as the blood red of the boy who swears he would “fight anyone that messes with” me, and the soft teal of the natural protector, who vows to do the same with their swinging lanyard of keys. They both have their dark moments, like any warrior, but chooses to get up just to beat me in a video game.
The other day, I drove friends home after playing hours of hilarious games at a tavern, like a cast of eager adventurers. In my rearview mirror, I could see their colors. The life of the party, an electric purple, picked the music, while the baby blue, the true creative, sat peacefully, bobbing their head to the soft melody. We made it home safe, and texted each other to make sure.
In the past, I once fell in love with the pastel pink, a sweet person who would conjure up fun facts like spells, as well as the forest green, an individual who means what they say and reaches for what they want. In the recent present, the obsidian black presented himself to me, mystical in all that he was, only to reveal that his laugh was more contagious than any I’ve ever heard.
The canary yellow, never boring, offers the best advice, and on karaoke nights, offers a voice only a siren can produce. On late night calls of crisis and crying, the sky blue lends a listening ear and pictures of her mischievous tomcat. The rich magenta likes to pummel me with aggressive love, like slingshotting paper — something everyone needs every now and then.
Recently, saying goodbye to the sage green, the proclaimed ‘mother of the group’ (who never gets enough appreciation), was difficult. She promised to visit my state at least once a year, and to cut my hair if it ever gets long again. Car rides with her felt a lot like those heroic adventures I wrote about.
I still get lost in the words I write, but every now and then, these people of my reality inspire me to turn my eyes away from the pen and paper and appreciate the present. But, as always, the world is messy, and my friends and I have to leave for college. Being a rising freshman means new things — new colors in my life that may blend together better than the current cast and new opportunities that can take me far, far away.
But at least my safe haven is no longer within skies that don’t exist, and is instead within the bright hues of the people I love. The reality I so desperately wanted to escape through writing became a colorful place once I found people who loved me just as I did them.
Thank you for reading! This is a very personal piece that was honestly quite hard to write. I wrote a few beginnings and deleted all of them, and had to take a short break before going back to this project. I aimed to combine elements of my personal/writing life with the concept of ‘colors’ and explain my love for my friends while comparing reality with fantasy. As an author who predominantly uses writing to escape reality, I wanted to portray my escapism and how good things in my life have helped me refrain from retreating into a dangerous creative cycle. Overall, albeit a little ambitious, I think this piece turned out pretty well!
Anyway, this is dedicated to the members of my friend group. If you guys are reading this, have fun guessing which colors you all are. I love you each dearly.