All My Colors

Chapter X - Contradictions And Revelations

I know better than to speak as I plop down in the passenger seat and slam the door, thankful to be out of the pelting rain. Blaze chooses not to speak as well, and every time I try to sneak a peek at her she merely keeps her eyes glued to the road, squinting through the flooded windshield. I still, however, hope that this act of kindness by her is the first small stepping stone towards her forgiving me (for whatever I did). Yes, I know... She did tell me to stay away from the hospital when she's there... But I was just so caught up in the moment. Besides, I wasn't about to let Miss Kay go without seeing her at least one last time.

Yes... Kay wasn't looking so good... Worse than I had expected, in fact. I know she sounded fine, but I had expected that as well. Many people out there fear death. They see it as the ultimate end to the greatest of the three natural rights. Many people try to avoid death like it's some sort of monster or demon. Like they believe the moment they see it they'll cower in fear and never be able to recover. Many people are saddened by even the slightest thought of death. Like the ones that undergo the experience will forever remain in a realm of nothingness, never to be seen by their loved ones again. Many people are not Miss Kay.

Personally, I don't fear death either. I believe a life lived in fear of what happens next is a life not lived at all. You gotta' live with some sort of everlasting hope inside yourself that tells you, yes, you will go through some terrible things in life, but they will never compare to the great things you'll accomplish. And you can't swallow success without tasting failure, because if you don't you won't know the difference when one of the two are in front of you. In the end, you have to do what you love until the day you die, because if you don't you might end up doing something you hate. And I know that seems so simple, but it's the little values like that that seem to get lost first under all the life we tend to pile on top of ourselves.

And, honestly? Most of the bad things about life are self-induced. "I'm lonely". Well, if you have someone to say that to, you're most certainly not. "I hate my life". No, you hate what you're going through at the moment. You see, reader, how we say things like this when they are not completely true? It's because we like feeling sorry for ourselves. It's like life cannot be lived without some form of struggle or annoyance, so when things such as that don't present themselves to us, we make them up. "Blah-blah said this on Twitter, so my life is over". Oh, really? Children in Africa are starving, and your utmost concern in this world is your reputation? Or relationship problems? I hate to be like this, reader, I really do. I'm sorry if any of this is depressing you, but the truth needs to be known. I don't enjoy being a cynic, it's just so easy.

But part of all this is our fault. If we, you and I, were to reach out to someone every day, maybe all of this would stop. Maybe nobody would have false feelings of loneliness or isolation. Maybe some people would finally be able to see life the way it needs to be seen. I've said it before, I'll say it again: if everyone treated each other the way they themselves would like to be treated, the world would just be a nice place to have fun while we wait. Wait for what really matters.

Hmph. Listen to me. I told you, reader... I'm just a hypocrite. Am I doing anything to stop all this? No. I just sit around all day with my paintbrush criticizing my country, myself, and my peers. And I wonder why the world is the way it is...

I have a run in with reality as we finally pull into our apartment complex. I half-expect Blaze to turn to me and unleash more wrath as soon as the car stops, but that does not happen. She simply turns her lights off and takes her key out of the ignition, with the same look of indifference she had before. I lean forward, and hit the 'lock' button before she has a chance to open her door. She looks back, scowling with a fire in her eyes, no longer neutral to myself or the situation. I wear the same embarrassed, apologetic face I always do when I disobey her, showing a perfect example of her dominance over me. After realizing what I had done (as I quite honestly surprised myself there), I take a deep breath.

"Blaze... We need to talk."

"I have nothing to say."

She reaches for her door again, but I grab her shoulder. The rain outside is coming down even harder than before, and it is almost an impossibility at this point to see anything out of the car windows. "Then listen." I swallow hard, and for once I don't feel like a kid around her. "You gotta' stop this."

She narrows her gaze, "Stop what?"

Inside, I smirk. I can play games, too. "I think you know..."

Blaze rolls her eyes, "If you're talking about how I snapped at you, maybe if you'd listen-"

"You need to stop worrying all the time." I interrupt, my eyes closed as if I knew I had just crossed a line of some sort. However, after realizing that she's actually listening, I continue: "You're not doing anybody any good by being so down like this..." My eyes drift away from the world for a moment, and then abruptly fix back on her. "Including me. If you'd just slow down for once you'd see that all of this doesn't really matter..."

Suddenly, her eyes widen, and she turns to me. "Oh, so my mother dying 'doesn't matter'?" She raises her tone, "Me working day-in and day-out to keep a roof over your freaking head 'doesn't matter'?!" And now I'm caught. Goddammit! I told you this would happen, reader! Blaze has the same look now she did in the hospital. "My life just doesn't matter to you, does it Silver?" At this point, my mouth is wide open. I have answers, but they are blocked from escaping my throat by sheer surprise. My tears don't have time to escape my eyes before she's physically removed herself from my presence. The slam of the door sends a shockwave through my world, caving it in on me as millions upon millions of raindrops continue to bash against the windshield, magnifying the effect.

Sometimes it just feels like the world hates ya'. You see, reader, it's only when we're feeling good that we look back on these times and laugh. Right now, it's real. These are bad times.

It's been a week or two... Maybe three... I don't know. I really don't care. I've lost all sense of time since that afternoon. I'll go into the art room sometime in the morning and just sit there on the floor, not taking painting into consideration, thinking. Just thinking. How could she feel that way? Is that really what I said? I come out sometimes, not often, only when I know Blaze isn't here. Sometimes it's day, sometimes it's night, I dunno'. Seems repetitive to me. Maybe that's what this life is... Just one big cycle. And just when you think you've gotten out of the ordinary cycle, thus cycles in general, you enter another one. I nap when I'm tired. I eat when I'm hungry. I scold myself when I'm awake. I scold myself when I'm asleep. This is just how I am sometimes. No changing me, no changing her, I guess it's fair. Every now and then I hear Blaze... In fact, I hear her in there now, turning the pages of a book in the living room. Your hearing becomes sharp when ya' don't talk for a while. I guess hearing yourself talk a lot makes you numb to what other people say or do. So when you stay quiet, and look around, you realize new things.

Like that it's the thrill of entering new cycles that keeps us alive. That's what we live for. I stare at the paint-splattered wall in front of me, and whisper the statement back to myself to make sure I understand its full meaning. Suddenly, something shifts inside me, and my mind does a complete one-eighty. My eyes widen, and I get up on my knees to chase the idea. I stay like this for several minutes, smiling as heaps of uplifting thoughts enter my brain. Finally, I make up my mind.

I squeak open the door, and as I had predicted, there Blaze lies, on the couch, staring into a book with a face of discontent. Not with the book, but with just about everything else. She notices me, but does nothing about it. Her expression only hardens, probably out of reflex by this point. I'm done screwing around. I take a deep breath:

"I meant you need to stop killing yourself over something you can't change." I say, looking into her eyes with a stern face that hides my quivering insides. I can already feel the moisture on my eyeballs forming. "There's no damn sense in it, and you should know better!" Surprised but happy with my tone, I try to continue. "You're only making things wor-"

Blaze cuts me off with a glare, closing her novel. "You want to know why I feel this way? Why I do this?" She stands, and takes a step towards me. I'm about a half-foot or so taller than Blaze, but right now it feels like she could squash me like a bug. "It's because that's my mother. The woman who's taken care of me for over twenty years... And the one time I have a chance to take care of her, I can't because of this damn job. I have to stick her up in a hospital and let-"

I slightly chuckle, "Blaze... The thing that you want that you're describing is a fairy-tale kinda' life. Not everyone can have that, 'cause then fairy-tales wouldn't exist." She doesn't budge. "Not everyone can be perfect..."

"Perfect? Ha!" She interrupts, continuing the trend we've set. "What the hell would you know about perfection?!" Now, she's seen past my bravado. She knows I'm just a jumbled up mess on the inside. "Huh?!" I close my eyes at the sharpness of her tone. "That's what I thought. You're far from perfect." She points to the art room, and notices my surprise. "Yeah, I've seen your little piece of artwork in there... You don't think I hear what you do at night?!" A few moments pass. That's the thing about Blaze... When you have her, you don't. "Well?!"

Suddenly, I snap, opening my eyes. "So I'm not perfect!" I scream. And yes, it was a scream... At this point I feel like it's the only way to get something through to her. I let a few deep breaths go by before I try to speak again, giving myself a chance to cool down. "But I don't want to be..." Now, my insides are stout as well, although it feels like my heart is about to jump out of my chest. "The only perfect man to ever walk this Earth was nailed to a cross, Blaze..." Now it's just a stare-down. Time feels like it's being plucked from the room and the thick tension it holds. "If that's the price you pay for perfection, I think I'll pass."

"What's it to you, anyways?!" She exclaims, avoiding my point and matching my tone. "Why do you care? What do you want, Silver? Money? Sex?!" I don't answer, but close my eyes once more, trying to imagine myself somewhere else. "Why are you trying to make me happy?! What is it, Silver?!"

"Because I love you!" I couldn't help it. I just let it slip. Completely out of frustration. Now we stand here, staring at one another, waiting for the other to make a move even though we both know neither of us will. The only sounds are of our panting, as we're both winded from screaming our arguments to the heavens. Our chests and hearts pounding, we endure the situation, unsure of what to do or say. I wish I could describe Blaze's reaction more, but to be honest, I'm not paying much attention. For the first time in my life, and I can't explain this either, I feel on her playing field instead of being it.

Ah, isn't it nice when shit actually starts happening?X,) Yeah... I know... I have other fics... I'M JUST GOIN' WHERE THA WIND TAKES MEH./:P As always, I hope ya' liked. 'Till next time,

Thanks for reading! Love you all!