Pink; The color he hates most. The color referring to cuteness, sweetness, politeness, girl-ness. The color that flows through the wind softly and quietly, yet stabs at an instant if provoked. The color that lies just to have that perfect perception everyone has of it. The color that is slapped on his face so hard he bleeds pink every single second of a day. The color that tears his insides apart one by one. The color that overflows until it is pouring out of his eyes and mouth as tears and blood mix in it, nails digging into his neck and chest so he could tear a gaping hole for a chance to breath. He only wants to be blue; Just for a day, just for one single moment of his life. He only wants freedom from the bloodied pain and sorrow pink has given him. Pink is all he has known for most of his life. He knows what blue is; Such a kind and gentle color. A color that is confident and bold, yet shy when meeting someone new. A color that doesn’t care what others think. A color that protects and heals the ones who are broken. He also knows that there is more than just this sick, beautiful pink; But it floods him to never see anything else but pink. It hugs him so that it’s almost comforting, but tight enough to remind him, “you’ll never be blue”.