Yellow is an Unhappy Color

The sky sounds like a myth to me by now. I haven't opened the windows or pulled the curtains for so long. I felt numb. The last few days have been nothing but repetitive. 

I wake up, log in to class, get food from the kitchen, go back to bed, and stare at my screen mindlessly for the rest of the day. 

School's been a bitch. With the amount of work we had to do, I couldn't help but sigh.

I barely remembered what day it was. Looking at my phone for a brief moment, I saw that it was a Saturday today. There's nothing to look forward to.

Nothing special. It's like the world was simply black and white. No splashes of color around me. Everything was just so... lacking.

Coping mechanisms are fucked. Almost nothing works.

There had been days when I couldn't sleep. A mug of cold coffee with sugar and milk in my hands, I rely on it to keep me conscious. 

My attempts have failed me anyways and I end up sleeping in class. But who would find out? I never open the damn camera anyway.

Music eases me most of the time... until it triggers a bad core memory hidden in the deepest parts of my head that end up with me clawing at my arm or calling myself stupid. Useless. Music can sometimes do worse than good. 

That, I have come to terms with.

Believe me. It wasn't always like this. The world used to be bright. Flowers in vibrant colors would greet me as I walked to school. The sun would shine down on me as I run for class whenever I'm already late. The skies were clear and shades of pink and purple would show themselves as the sun sets on the horizon. 

All was well until all I saw was red. 

...

They say that Yellow is a happy color, but I'd like to think otherwise.

To most, I was the color of oceans; serene and calm. Though sometimes, would wreak havoc. I was the color of comfort, of melancholy, of deep waters where the sun can barely reach. 

I was the color blue.

Throughout my years of existence, I've been through many obstacles. The world was a battlefield, with some hungry for blood, others just trying to stay alive. 

I remembered it all too well. So well that the demons of the past make their way into my dreams at night, laughing, taunting, mocking me. 

The world was against me. I remembered being overly naive. I was a stupid kid without any proper guidance and all I had was myself to fend for... well, myself.

I was, admittedly, very different. I used to be outgoing. Loud, even. Most told me I was a bright and smart kid until I grew up with a mind of my own. 

The world caved in on me. No longer was the kid who would try to befriend everyone. Gone were the days of innocence. 

This, to almost everyone's disappointment, was all that was left of me.

I had a small group of friends, yet there used to be only one that I trusted before. The funny thing was that everything ended when I found out he was only lying and fucking around with me, and pretty much stabbed me in the back. 

Once, I fell in love with a boy who loved somebody else who never loved him back. I barely ate, barely slept. I kept my emotions in a cage and never let them loose.

The number of days I slept hoping to have the God of Death knocking on my door, waiting for me on the other side, became weeks. I used to drink bottles of instant coffee more than the suggested maximum dose.