Raindrops of Thinking

  -- by Blue  I lost something again. But I don't know what that is. (perhaps the rest of this prose. perhaps my will to lice.)

  -- by Blue [ trigger warning ] yellow. i feel the warmth of yellow with the sight of it. the brightness overpowers my eyes leaving me almost blind. the sun glares at me, whether that be in a painting or if I try to look it up on the sky. i am blinded by the intensity of yellow.  i see the meanings of yellow in signages encouraging happiness. the smiling emoji beams at me with its yellow skin. it goes beyond the simple glare as it bears stars on each eye. excitement and joy, these very emotions plastered on its imaginary irises.  i ought to give a smile in return, i told myself. i ought to reflect the hue of happiness in the faces of strangers, of friends and other people. i ought to, i told myself again. it is to be expected. but yellow... perhaps for me was different. it does not only mean the positive things on the advertisements that entice the human eye. it does not only mean the warmth and light of sunshine.  for yellow... yellow also means sickness... and perhaps i am sick. i n

  — by Blue I met a machine once. It had an iron plated body and its brain was connected with wires. Its body was starting to rust, the power inside barely flickering the light in its eyes.  I asked this machine, "What is your name?"  "I don't remember. I had a name once, but I chose to forget," it said.  I asked, "Why?"  "Young one, I chose to forget that as well. Everything, perhaps, started with the fact that I have thrown away my past to create this synthetic body in place of a once rotting flesh that could die at any moment in time."  The machine told me a story then, a hypothesis that was formed from years of missing memories. A highly likely story that explains the origins of the wires that made its robotic brain going and the empty ribcage that housed not a heart but a pulsing something that pumps electricity—steady and static, not erratic.  Once, perhaps, there was a human with a soul. It wanted a lot of things. It wished a lot of wi

  -- by Blue [ trigger warning: mentions of self harm ] People have heard rumors. They say a flock of monsters have snuck into town and disguised themselves, blending in with the folk to conceal their true nature. They say these beings don't have true faces. They are like dolls with no paint on their faces, no stitches to show where the mouth and the eyes were. They are mere empty bobble heads, with probably empty brains as well. They say these monsters are stupid, but what they lack for sense they fill in with their confidence.  "That's how they're so fearless to even fool the King's daughter from the East," the young lady tending for the bar of the tavern whispered in a rather conspicuous way so that all the men and women could hear, ale held back in their throats. Hearsays and tales probably laced with lies were not new in a place such as this tavern. Every gathering posed chances of spreading stories. The truthfulness behind them didn't matter. What pe

  — by Blue I would always see her portrait hanging just above the corner of the staircase that connected the upper and lower parts of the house. That staircase acted like a gateway or the divide between heaven and hell, and her face the gatekeeper with the eyes that could see anyone—everyone. She was always there, and I always aware.  I could not remember when the first time that portrait of hers were hanged inside the house. Perhaps it has always been there, long before I was born. I'm not sure. All I know is that one day, it was there and I could see her.  Her name was something I should've remembered but I couldn't bring myself to. It brought me nightmares in bed that my mind chose to bury it away out of my reach.  Her hair is raven black, her skin pale as sickly white. She was lean and she had a cat resting on her bony left arm. The scaly fingers of her right hand caressed the fur of the mischievous creature. Her eyes, they were the emptiest orbs I have ever seen, so e

  — by Blue The old me wouldn’t have imagined a time such as this would come. I have never dreamed of it, not exactly. But now that I somehow kind of have it, I realize how much I have longed for it all along. It’s a mystery that I couldn’t quite explain or solve. I only know how certain I am, wishing every night that I might not lose it. It Is something so out of my reach at first. Even now I truly wonder if this is nothing but a mirage in the midst of mocking reality. What if everything that makes this up is a figment of my imagination? What if this person is nothing but a sham? What if everything else is a lie? It's that hard to believe. They say seeing is believing, but then I chose to believe what I am feeling instead. Something that I couldn’t yet hold. Something that I haven’t even laid my eyes upon. Something filled with beautiful promises that I firmly hold on to as they grow in number and never less. Now I have a mountain of wishes and a beaming ray of hope. But here c