Pastel Colors


By: Samantha N. Fabian

I’m clumsy. I’m forgetful. Life seems to carry me away with its car noises, WiFi signals, and recurring emotion outbursts. I’m stubborn, always letting myself be influenced by inherited teen rebellion from the braves or by the ever-fluctuating and alternating theme of laziness versus motivation. A blue banner stating “I don’t want responsibilities” hangs and hides somewhere in the dark streets of my subconscious. It’s ingrained in a way; hard to eradicate the stickiness of its glue or remove the thumbtacks that pin it.

I want everything but subtly refuse to know what I truly need. Being aware of it makes me feel I don’t live in pastel. My plant starts look dark green. Skies are no longer pastel pink.

However, there are times when something shifts in my head. Maybe it’s a brick among other idle bricks of thoughts chaotically arranged in my brain. It doesn’t matter if I’m on the floor crying or going through old possessions I see while trying to clean. The banner slowly flips over and displays a peach-colored one that says “Turn your troubles into dreams” in that unknown street.

So I start looking at art in pastels, reading poetry or watching creative people’s lives until I feel a sense of excitement, direction, vision, motivation or determination. That’s when I start contradicting the clumsy, forgetful, stubborn, static, distracted side of me. That’s when I begin turning my troubles into dreams. Be it through writing or digging old wounds. It’s a release no matter what— a conversion of static miseries into beating passions. Skies turn lavender pink. Plants start to look lighter green. Everything turns a bit lighter in shade.

And that’s when I start living in pastel colors. No matter how temporary or fleeting it may be.



Typography by: Samantha Fabian

Lyrics from: Days N' Daze - Misanthropic Drunken Loner

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