Date: Friday, 13th June

If I were to go back to a month ago, my life can be described to be colorless.

I gaze at my canvas, my right arm frozen in mid air as I falter again and again. Tightening my hold onto the size 5 acrylic brush, I grit my teeth out of frustration. My brush moves up and down in short breaths, retracting again and again, further and further away from the easel as my mind undergoes a heartwrenching process of choosing which colors I want to place onto the colorless canvas.

It feels as if I am facing a mirror that is reflecting my life. The canvas is blank. It waits for someone to apply colors onto it. My life is no different. It is a blank. And similarly, it is waiting for someone to make it interesting.

I feel horribly angry, horribly upset, and horribly angsty. It is funny for me to have so many unwonted emotions bottled up inside me, and to have it torture me so at this very moment. I am usually calm inside, but today, the everyday calm I had within me, is becoming the calm before the storm.

I want to lament about something. To someone. I want to lament about how lifeless my life is.

The town I live in, is a place of dread, dreams and drama. It is as sleepless as the nearest megalopolis, and as sleepy as the farthest countryside. Dreams that come true here are not within my reach, and dramas that occur here are too mundane to view.

I change my statement. The town I live in, is a place of dread.

I thrust my brush towards the edge of the palette, where the glob of red paint was squashed and it writhes around, mixing with the nearby yellow glob. I grind my brush, harder and harder. The colors interlace with each other, forming a substandard orange that has streaks of yellow and red sloshing within it. Exasperated, I throw both the brush and the palette onto the seat next to me.

Please let something interesting come into my life and paint it with rainbows. I pray fervently in my head.

I stand up abruptly, while the chair is pushed backwards, producing a scratchy, metal sound deafening to the ears. Following after, I storm towards the table, where little containers of oil paints are scattered around, the hurricane of colors sweeping across the rough wooden surface. A single retro type of radio sits snugly in the eye of the rainbow disaster, a film of dust covering the speakers. This has been here in the art room for ages, and is hardly used by anyone. I am not a radio fan, plus, I am the only student in the art club for the last 2 years. It is no wonder that it looks lonely in that tiny little spot.

With a finger, I press the switch to the radio, wanting to have a change of pace to calm the brewing storm inside of me. The radio stays motionless for a while, until the speakers vibrate, and a crackling noise is amplified towards me.

"...zzzz... Three months ago, Tanegashima Space Centre has announced... zzzzz... incoming comet that is only seen in a thousand years... zzzz... estimated to be seen in Japan's night sky..zz... the seventh night of July...zzzz... people has dubbed that date to be 'A Night of Wishes', as meteors will be seen all over Japan... zzz... "

Seventh night of July. I whisper to myself, making a mental note while I'm at it.

I decided.

On the seventh night of July, I will wish upon a shooting star.

If I were to go back to a month ago, my life can be described to be iridescent.

"Front! Front!" Green yells, his right hand that is high above his shoulders waving wildly as he shouts at me. I dribble the ball, my eyes darting left and right as sweat trickles down my forehead.

The two players from the opposing team formed a human barricade, preventing me from passing the basketball to my teammates. I pant, side-stepping many a times as I continuously evade their attempts to snatch the ball. It is a blessing that I have large hands.

I exhale, calmly analyzing the situation.

The moment my eyes pick up the loophole in their defenses, I bend down quickly, weaving through the two-man barrier. And as expected, they leap backwards, blocking me yet again.

I feel calm. Exceptionally calm today.

Doing a spin, I distanced myself from the two and did a swift jump that sets me hovering in mid air for approximately two seconds. That amount of time was perfectly sufficient for me to throw the ball.

My hands feel good. Exceptionally good today.

The rubber texture of the ball's surface scrapes against my skin. The basketball flies away from my fingertips.

It arcs over the many players, pairs of eyes following the ball as it drops into the hoop without much of a sound. Then it lands onto the ground with a bounce that signals the end of the game.

Green stares at me, with mouth wide open. He flails his arms, an action unlike his character, as he gallops towards me in a flurry. He gapes at me, opening and closing his mouth in wordless exhilaration. My teammates crowd around me, high-fiving me consecutively, causing my palms to feel sore and raw.

The whole stadium cheers in exuberance, sparklers going off in a shower of red, orange, yellow, green, blue and purple.

It feels as if I am viewing my own life running across me at full speed. The colors. The excessive colors.

The excitement in me dies down immediately, without warning.

Green and the rest continue to cheer. Not me. I have the uncontrollable urge to get out from the colors, from all these colors sloshing before my eyes. The rainbows are going to drown me.

"Akashi- no, Red! No matter what anyone says, you're the MVP today!" Coach Okumura bellows. The old man beams at me, his toothy grin reflecting the stadium's light, but I can't return a grin as bright as his. Instead, I turn the corners of my mouth up, just this slightly.

"Group huddle!" The captains yells, his voice already hoarse from all the throat-killing cheers. My teammates rush towards him, while I stone there, blinking my eyes.

I can't see anyone.

The colors are overlapping. All the red, all the orange, all the yellow, all the green, all the blue, all the purple. They are covering my sight, blinding my vision.

I cover my eyes with both hands.

It's black. I whisper to myself.

Please let something interesting come into my life and paint it with white. I beg in my head.

"Hey, Akashi! Come!" Green shouts over the thick, bubbling noise.

Three months ago, the news of an approaching comet is known throughout Japan. The long awaited "Night of Wishes" is coming.

I walk towards them.

On the seventh night of July.

Towards the sloshing colors.

I decided.

On the seventh night of July, I will wish upon a shooting star.