Black.
Not even a color. An outcast.
Meaning nothing. Black is something not reflected and something taken away.
Black is a void.
It's funny really. Nobody can really SEE black. But they see the colors around black and realize that it's different.
Not special.
Not bizzare.
Just different.
It's funny how human eyes can see and judge differences so easily.
Black is something humans don't understand yet see so often.
So to humans, black became evil. Black became death.
Like black, I was never understood. Because I too was different.
Different for trying to change the world.
Different for simply dreaming.
Dreaming of a perfect world - a bright future.
A future without black.
With each name I wrote, I took away that evil of our world. Those with it in their hearts must perish.
The world became better and better.
But black, the cousin of misery, always needs a place to go.
The blackness I so readily banished became part of me. Merged into my soul.
Or should I say ate away at.
With each name I wrote the notebook filled up. The blackness spilled out, unfeeling, unseen, blackness of the soul. I became consumed with it.
And yet the notebook kept filling up.
Until there was just one space left.
For one last person with blackness to be banished.
My perfect world was so close to me. Yet so far.
The one last space was for me.
Blackness is emptiness. Black is a light unreflected in your eyes.
Black was me.
To be immortalized as the God of the new world.
To do that I must give the ultimate sacrifice.
And plunge in myself. Into that hole I had made.
38... 37... Each seconds ticks away slowly.
Synchronizing with my shattered breath.The notebook is on the floor, forgotten. Black is so much, yet nothing.
But I now realize what true black is.
As it waits for me.