Red. What a beautiful color. I don't often pick favorites, but red is my favorite color. When the black clouds fog up my mind. and pain reigns my existence, it's red that makes it go away. It drives away the voices and clears my head. It makes me feel alive.
Before red, I was empty. Constantly living in black clouds of misery, a shell of a person. People were always angry at me for doing the "wrong things". They had a book of invisible rules that I didn't. I was so lost and empty, about to give up, when I discovered red. I thought that the small waves of feeling in my world of apathy were emotions, but I had no idea. Red opened my eyes. My heart sprang to life, great vibrant hurricanes of emotions whirled within me, and I felt feelings that I didn't even know existed. I discovered the immense power I had. People stopped being mad, instead they avoided me, running in fear. I felt that I had finally won at the game of life.
My family, however, didn't see things the same way. They told me that I needed to stop, that this isn't how you're supposed to live, that what I was doing was wrong. I felt very confused at their explanations. After all, they were always telling me that people getting mad at you is bad, and no one was ever mad at me anymore. Something that feels so good, can't be bad. I tried to explain this to them, this amazing power that I felt, the emotions that swirled around within me as the red flowed over my hands, the beauty of finally seeing. I tried, but they refused to listen. They continued on with their complaints about "morals" and "hell" and "illegal".
One day, my sister crossed the line. She threatened to call the police, but I couldn't have that. So I took our big steak knife and plunged it into her chest. She barely had any time to gurgle out a scream before she collapsed to the floor. Beautiful crimson spilled from her chest. I was surprised that such a grey person was capable of producing such a beautiful color. I couldn't get enough, so I cut, again and again, and again, until all of the gorgeous crimson color stained the white kitchen tile.
Then, the doorbell rang. I knew the rest of my family wouldn't understand, and would try to call the cops. But I couldn't have that.
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