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White
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White
Its an empty white screen that I write on. Microsoft word used to write stories that are either liked or hated. They are stories that cause conflicts in real life- my life. Hard to believe isn't it that words written on pristine white sheets of paper or on Microsoft word can cause chasms that can never be glued back together.
The white screen gives stories in text form- rudimentary and bare but the emotions generated are ripe in their form and alive. Passionate in their flavour, for some the words on white invoke disgust and disappointment.
They won't call the jihad on me- just some white flavouring of their own. The morality of being pristine white, the existence of living a clean white life.
But is life really white? Like my white screen it has all colors in it. The black of rage, the green of envy, the blue of serenity, the yellow of love and the red of sex.
There are greys as well- shades that people negate. Why else do we write under names that reflect what we excuse as our alter egos?
White is my screen and I love what I paint on it. The shades of pain, love, sorrow- they are the shades of life that make us human.