So loud,
Bright colors,
Ticking,
Screaming,
Like a panic attack in a bad movie.

Itching inside my head,
Listen hun,
You’re cute,
But if you whistle one more colorful tune,
I might flip.

The headaches are getting more frequent,
The neon colors searing my skull,
I would never give them up,
But I would appreciate it if they would CHILL OUT FOR ONE MINUTE.

Just stop screaming,
You’re there,
I know,
You always have been,
You never go away,
I wouldn’t want you to,
Not ever,
But I would like it if you would quiet down while I’m trying to be normal.

Wouldn’t it be nice to be able to sit still in a room full of people?
To not feel their every touch,
Itching with them,
Breaking bones with them,
Hugging and kissing with them,
Just one day of not being this way,
One day to experience life the way they do?
No. That would be awful.

How do you people live a life in such gray?
No color in music,
No color in taste,
Just,
Empty.

How?

I can’t imagine life without it,
I can’t imagine living in such a black, white, and gray world,
Yet you people seem so content,
So happy with the world,
You seem so,
Normal.

But you’re not,
Or I’m not,
Maybe I’m the freak in the room,
No one else here feels this,
At least,
Statistics say no one else in this room should,
Think about likely-hood,
No,
Don’t.

Don’t start being like me,
Insane,
Odd,
Off,
Wrong.

I say I would never wish it away,
But please understand it is as much a gift,
As it is a curse.

For every day that I feel surged with color,
Smiling with every metallic or neon bit,
I have a day of overwhelmed color,
Pain in my head,
Clawing my eyes out,
Scraping my brains that became mashed potato consistency.

It hurts some days,
It’s an addictive drug another.

It is the most amazing disorder that I never knew I had.

I like the word “disorder”,
I feel like it describes it perfectly,
It’s not a disability,
It’s not an affliction,
Not a disease or problem.

I like “disorder” because that’s what happens,
Everything is disorderly,
As in not ordered,
It is an overabundance of information,
Thousands of colors without name,
Textured smell,
Feeling what others feel in the absolute most physical sense.

This is not a definite disorder,
Not perfectly defined,
I am not an issue,
Problem,
Or freak,
I’m not going to die from it,
I’ve had it all my life,
It’s part of me,
It is me.

I swear to god if one more person contradicts me,
If one more person says they wished their name was another color,
Or if one more person tries to “explain why” something has the color it does,
I’ll lose it.

Monday isn’t red because it’s bloody or something,
It’s just red,
Don’t ask why Friday is navy/gray,
Don’t assume I hate it because of that,
I like Friday,
I even like that color,
It’s simple,
That beside the point,
Stay focused,
I hate that people immediately assume things about my colors,
That’s the point.

My mind is how it is,
It’s not for a reason,
It’s not because of anything,
It,
Just,
Is.

I don’t know how you do it!
I apologize for my exclamation,
But how?!
How could you live in such a boring world?
You only see colors when there’s physically colors,
I see colors when I smell,
Eat,
Listen,
I feel smells,
You just smell them,
That’s so boring.

I feel like people pity me and feel bad for me,
“Poor thing,
She has a mental disorder”,
Ugh!
I don’t want you people to pity me,
I feel bad for you!

You live in a world with such darkness,
We all do,
But you all live in this world with no release,
Nothing particularly bright to look forward to with every step,
Every move you make,
Closer to a new color,
Brighter colors,
Painful colors,
Colors that feel like nails on a chalkboard.

You don’t feel molten or melty yellow when you hold parade beads,
You don’t feel prickling tingles like a limb fallen asleep from a certain smell,
You don’t feel fireworks in your skull from listening to Lana’s National Anthem,
And I am so sorry,
I truly am,
I wish I could help you,
I wish I could show you.