#modp.i.n.k.

It’s like a Hall of Mirrors- each is the same person, but with a slightly different perspective on what’s important. Each showing slightly different emotions, due to distortions in the mirror, distortions in what we can see.

As I walk down this hall of life, I change, and my reflections change with me. Most of the time, there is no distinction- we’re one and the same, our edges blurring together. Other times, our different opinions clash, and I’m left with the knowledge that every decision is Right, trying to then determine which one could possibly be Wrong as well. 

People are complex creatures. Millions of neurones firing at once, an intricate ballet no more complicated than a computer, and yet is indescribable in comparison.

How do others have such strong opinions, not constantly backtracking on themselves? Its fascinating, imagining whether there’s something wrong with them, or with me. Perhaps its natural variation in the human population. It’s strange how people insist on classifying themselves by such superficial things as gender and skin colour, when each and every brain, each and every way of thinking, is astoundingly different.

Do other people also have this barrage of emotion, cancelling itself out as you try to disentangle the web, find out which part of you wants what, what their reasoning is?

Do they hear it, but simply push it to the back of their mind, favouring a certain part that is louder than all the rest? 

I have so many questions- and yet, I will never have answers. Words are a fickle thing, that can never truly encompass what is really occurring in our brains, in the emotions of every person on this small planet. 

Across my vision, there’s a thousand colours, a transparent layer standing between me and the world. Millions of dots, constantly shifting their individual hues.

Most of the time, I don’t notice them. It’s my Normal, and only over the unnatural flat, white surfaces of humanity’s creation do they become stark and unyielding.

Does it change us? Who we are, how we see the world?

If I had the black-and-white strain, would I be sadder? Drowning in the chasms of grey that would overlay the true world, that would mute the real colours that I’m meant to see?

If I had regular vision, would I be more focused? Crisp, clean edges, uniform outcrops of colour with no variation, with no pop. When I close my eyes, I’d see nothing but the colour black, an endless, boring void.

Is the world brighter for me, than it is for others? Colours fizzing in and out of existence across my vision, yet going completely unnoticed. Would I be shocked, seeing the world as others do? Would I want a different kind of vision, or would I find their vision alien and strange, devoid of the millions of dots that accompany me through every second of my day?

I ponder, as the colours continue to shift around me, a comforting presence.