Where is my colour?

I was sitting on a bench on a balcony, looking out into the open where the setting sun's splendor was being eclipsed by a dark cloud swallowing a lighter cloud. I see beauty around me and it makes me happy. This happiness makes me sad.

The sadness is not out of cynicism but from a sense of alienation. I haven't felt happiness in a long time. When I'm hit with it out of the blue, I don't recognise it. I can't understand it and I can't talk to it. I am not able to bring myself to locate it. I feel disjointed. I don't want to know it. I want to walk away from it, see it in a new light and at the same time I want it to swallow me for the dark cloud that I am.

I don't want it. What is the return policy on unrequited happiness?

Questions that are asked and never answered are worse than questions that were never asked. Let me go you rotten, sidey, shady, disgusting, slimy scum. I hate it.

I hate that I hate it. I hate that I am able to recognise my hatred towards it but not it by itself.

I see happiness and I want nothing to do it. I see sadness and I want to slowly walk away from it. I see this greyness and I want to stab it summoning all ferocity. Where is my colour?

Of a familiar pattern...

It is quite odd that writing has followed me for over a decade now, from writing lengthy exams to pointless notes in class to more exams to magazine articles to online stories to assignments, it's been quite the journey. The last bit of the equation is probably one of the few things that I've taken on voluntarily.

Being a full fledged student once more, after a full 4 years outside of a class room, was pretty odd at first. To force the little discipline gained from a sparsely-corporate lifestyle for almost 4 years out of the way and to inculcate the typical laziness associated with a student has, to put it mildly, been the toughest thing to do. Sadly, it had to be done. I'm not in the least bit implying that this transformation has somehow been completely voluntary or under my full control. It's been a result of the circumstances, past and present, coupled with a willful undertaking.

Yet, I am Buridan's Ass. Faced with the demands that college makes, primary of which is that of intense thought and understanding at all times, along with a mostly lazy refusal to indulge in the aforementioned demands, I am Buridan's Ass. The test though, is to see how long the tension lasts.