Paint Box

Sometimes, I think I could sleep My Life away.
Sometimes, I almost know it.
But then I feel guilty because that would mean, by society's definition, that I have wasted it.
Young, smart, talented, beautiful blah blah blah she made nothing of her life.
I Did, you presumptious bastard, I built castles in the air!
Doesn't count. LALALALALALAALALALALALLAA

If I die now, today, at 17 and 141 days, what would I leave behind?
People would remember me--family, friends, people, I'll concede to that. But would they remember me, or just their idea of me?
The thought depresses me.
I know i'm a dot in the greater scheme of things and all that jazz, but a figment of imagination?
Ouch.
Wanna know the worst part?
All I've done is live.
Being alive?
That's a different story altogether.
I pity me, even though, I'd hate you if you did.

If I were a colour, I'd be lavender with shades of black and the occasional flash of red.
Or maybe i'm a dirty slate grey that the other colours fail to recognise and accept into the inner cirle.
Or pink with a hint of pale green and a dash of baby blue.
Or clashes of orange and red outlines with thin lines of brown.
Or magenta-esque with spots of off white.
Or plain yellow.
I am glass.
Reflective, transparent, absorbent with no personality of her own.
But, with a cutting egde.

I have this theory, that your hair mirrors your personality.
As a child you have beautiful soft cherubic curls reaking of innocence and naivety.
As you grow older, the curls harden, they become cynical and course, malleable with an edge. Sometimes your hair become almost whip like, or messy and unmanageable, a tangle of lost translations.
Twisted.
You can disguise your hair, you know.
Straighten it, perm it, suffocate it with masses of serum and gel and heat and matted colour and strands of pink and red and blonde hair dye.
It's so easy to disguise you.
It's so easy to change your personality.

If a chameleon is constantly changing colour, does it have an original colour, or does its own voice and paint get so over-ridden by change and cameoflage that it loses it?
I wouldn't know, would I?

Don't mind me.
Funerals can do strange things to a person.