Picture This -

What A Shame It'd Be

As he looked out, he puzzled about what his eyes were showing him. At first it didn't look quite right, nor did it feel so. He reached his hands up and tightly held his head between them. There seemed like a buzzing sound in his head like a fly that wouldn't go away. The noise was distracting as it grew louder. He cringed as his skin started to crawl and itch across his body. For a moment he closed his eyes, focusing on only his breath. Forcing himself not to scratch his arms he waited for a while, not daring to allow himself to think. Breathing in and out he felt his heart beat rythimically in his chest as his heartbeat was pounding harder against the surface of his skin. It was faster now than it had been. He forced himself to slow his breathing and calm down. In... and out... Even with the black hoodie he was wearing the warm summer air seeped through like a soft blanket. He felt a sudden cool breeze slap against his face causing him to shiver slightly. Easing his mind he took deeper breathes, slower. Feeling the rise and fall of his chest, the buzzing soon stopped and his mind was completely silent.

He then opened his eyes again. Before he had even noticed it he found himself smiling at the sight. He wanted to absorb every detail of what lay reflecting on the surface of his brown eyes. The way each of the colors mixed together was calming as they playfully tried to swallow eachother whole. They all had their own representations, all of which can be differently digested. Songs the colors wrote together were sycronized and stunning, all while the lyrical content in them are divergent and unpredictable. Stories each of the colors told were inspiring, longing to be heard by someone - anyone.
So that's exactly what he did.

He thought carefully, wondering as he looked trying to find something. What was he drawn to most? Maybe there was something he wanted to avoid? He was unsure. Despite his efforts to get rid of it, the buzzing was slowly creeping its way into the poor boy's head once again. With his eyes still glued on the scene displayed in front of him, he reached into the pocket of his hoodie to grab a box of cigarettes. Opening it generously he looked down and grabbed one from the box placing the filter just on the edge of his opened mouth. With one end balancing in between his lips, he took the lighter in his hand raising it to light the other end. He almost immediately felt the nicotine rush through him while smiling once more holding the rest of the distasteful tobacco between his fingers. Resting his wrist on his thigh he exhaled the smoke satisfyingly.

Once again he raised his gaze to look at the picture above. After some time, his thoughts all seemed to vanish in an instant. Though relieved at first, he quickly realized that the thoughts in his head were no longer his. Anything he tried to think was hurriedly shoved away. Was it the voices? The thought had only lasted a moment when he realized that the demons he's grown so familiar with are definitely not the cause of what he's hearing. There'd be no question if they were around. Worry started to fill his cup more than he was prepared for. Pushing his lips onto his cigarette again, he felt his mind start to race rapidly from uncertainty. When it had finally become too much for him to hold, the concern he felt had gone away just as fast as it came. Instead, he heard the music. He wanted to laugh at the hysteric assumptions he previously made, but of course nothing came out of his mouth but for the smoke. Instead he felt the intensity of reassurance wash over his entire body like a crashing wave. The music was soothing and beautiful. It was so nice to feel comforted for a change. Desperate to understand the lyrics, he looked up again. His adoring eyes saw the colors once more, more vibrant than ever. Taking another drag off his cigarette, and his mind completely clear again, he started to listen.

Some were like a dim purple light filling the space of a dark room, careful not to frighten the pupils of fragile eyes. It held the care and understanding of a mother pleading to let the eyes' of her child be free of the burdened tears hidden deep inside. While others however, are bright and roaring fires of amber and orange. They told tales about the stomping feet of the world, and how they were pushed to cowardly hide in the dark from shame. The flames are now screaming, but not out of doubt or fear. No, they shout from strength. A fire does not burn out in the dark, it grows brighter than it ever could in the light of day. So finally, they decided to burn. Selfish and beautiful, they rose above and gave themselves a purpose and wrote their stories.

Every color, every song, and every story had a meaning. All of them were so valuable and unlike anything else he had known. They were unique in every aspect, and while they are beautiful, it is quite an understatement to describe their exterior. Sometimes the songs and the admiration they have with one another was all the boy had to hold on to. As they describe their place in the world, he loved to listen to their stories and sing all kinds of songs with them. Taking the stories and songs they had shared, he used them to create his own stories. Writing his own songs that nobody would hear, and some he had hoped thousands of people would listen to. They meant so much to him, and he tried his best to repaid the favor by never once taking them for granted.

The boy continued to listen to their songs carefully after tossing the remaining filter onto the dead grass beneath him. He found himself losing his mind in their stories and his feelings to empathy. The words they spoke were soft, but he heard them as clear as glass. After only so much time had passed, the variety of colors faded away and the sun began to set. The mountains watched in awe as it fell behind them drowing all of its songs with it. The sky grew darker as the moon wanted to shine above the stars and share their own secrets together.

Reaching for another cigarette, he smiled and said out loud to himself, "What a shame it would be to miss something like this."