aeroplane vomit

15 - strangers in an orange room

i thought i could pour my heart out to my the closest friends i knew--the ones who stood in a crooked semicircle in a room with walls painted a thick shade of vermilion red. i watched as they sat down on the floor, waiting for me to say a single word that could trigger a memory they could relate to, but i don't. i keep my mouth shut tight and swing open the door to exit the blood-filled room, hesitating but moving on anyway. guilt is biting away at whatever bits of my heart is left, and i let it, because my heart has been in pieces for too long anyway.

i walk with my toes on their tips and i don't let them come back down until i reach the next room. i twist the doorknob open and i hear a startled wince from behind the door. i walk inside and find a man swinging his feet as he sat on a little wooden chair similar to the ones that my friends were resting on. i stare at him until he tells me to have a seat opposite him. i do, and as i make my way there, i take in the bright pumpkin orange painted across all four walls and ceiling around me. after exchanging 'hi's and 'how are you's, i begin pouring words onto him.

the shade of the wall fades from a eye-catching orange to a shade of red. but this time, the red is not a dull rusting brick-red shade, but a bright lava colour that has been just painted on. i watched as the blood filled the room along with my words. for the first time, i am more thankful for the stranger in the orange room, and not the ones in the red.