On the Color of the World

Shannon Li

April. 24th, 2023

On the Color of the World

I think, in many cases, that color is always so confusing. If it is because of personal experiences and other reasons that I choose to accept certain ideas and reject certain things. Then me, I’m always in denial. From the time I started making choices, I refused to accept them, but I was never able to reject the act of choosing itself. I could see my refusal quite clearly, but I was also refusing to accept my own disgusting refusal.

The changes, always many, were great. Maybe something happened that caused some cracks to appear in my world. I used to doubt the real, the existential, because I was unwilling to accept that broken present world. I asked, how do I save you, how do I save you in this broken world, and the only response I got was silence. The only response I got was silence. So I started to think, starting with the activity of that childish thought, and I tried to discover the hue of that world. everything was so unreal. I remembered my memories, I remembered my experiences, I remembered the white brick walls, the green fake grass - they were just as vibrant in winter. Who was sharing with me in that empty world? Maybe I am overthinking, or maybe I am too selfish, and I am always unable to feel the truth of the Other, the emotions of the Other, the love of the Other.

So I choose to reject it? Is this my choice? Do I say that the colors of the world have fallen off so much because of my terrible trauma that I can no longer see all hope? Yet I want to see hope, and I always have hope. I say, why is it always me in my writing, why is it always myself in my thoughts. Did I ever make myself hard-hearted because I didn’t want to believe in my own weakness, or was it an attempt to escape from the colorful world?

Behold the colors of the world. Behold the sound of the world. It’s not that I don’t see the world emerging, it’s my closure that prevents me from embracing it. Why? Why, to reject it? It is not that the world possesses a rift, but my heart possesses a rift. I am divided, and I myself cannot see my own most sincere words. Who else do you want to deceive? I’m sorry, but I can’t do it, I don’t have the capacity, I don’t have the ability to accept, to believe, to embrace. I say, it’s okay, I want you to live.

Alive, what is it? Maybe just surviving, even if it’s under a dome of bleakness again. No, it’s not, I say. I say you can lose everything, you can lose everything you have, anything, but you have to have one thing. You must have it, a zest for life. It’s not a suggestion, it’s a requirement, a necessity. Rejection, coldness. Whatever word goes to describe it, it doesn’t matter. Because the color of the world does not come from the world, I am the world.

It is easier said than done, and how difficult it is. I try everything, I try everything I can do. There is a limit to my power. I keep on, keep on, trying to find the answer in a higher body of knowledge. There is no answer. Perhaps colors do not hide themselves, or perhaps they have long since laid themselves bare in their most atrocious form. But what I see, I do not see them, I see myself. I see my dead body rotting in the fields. No! Don’t do this. I don’t want you to leave. But I’m sorry that I can never give you what you want.

O passionate life, it has never denied me. I just, can’t be near you. Why! Is it because I rejected it? Where exactly is the color, what exactly is it. No, it’s not, it’s not. I want everything of you. I want to be alive. The color did not fall off, the color never left me. And I have never rejected you, rejected your colors. Am I worthy? Do not ask questions! Do not doubt! Take action, take action! Passion is not some need, but a necessity.

Are you pushing me? No, I’m sorry, I regret saying that. Oh, the clouds, the clouds floating softly in the blue sky. What a beautiful day. So I stopped. The beauty of the world, I said, please stop for me. Not really asking for anything, but hoping that my passion, will save me.

Please, please, stop. Look at me, look into my eyes. I see, I see the real you. In your eyes, I see the colors of your heart. That splendid world is the very me that reflects everything. So, I stopped looking. Not because I found the answer, but because, on the contrary, there is no answer at all. Maybe the color of the world does not exist in the world. Perhaps, I can’t reject it either. I see its beauty. It was waiting for me.

Strength, strength, I had an inexhaustible amount of energy in my body, but I swung my fist and punched the air. The bulge carried my body forward a ways. There was no crack, and if there was, why didn’t that punch hit the crack, why didn’t it reveal anything? Because I had become the whole of everything, the integration of everything. I stand in the world, and the world is my eye. So I see your determination, I see your courage, and your desire. Don’t compromise, don’t give up. You may remember the building, the friends there, the children there. No, I’m not for anyone. But I do understand.

The helplessness, the strength that has nowhere to use. Stop. Stop. I get it. You don’t. Are you just comforting me? No, I want you to have the most beautiful future. Can you see it? Can you see the patina in your heart? I wish you could see it too, I wish you had everything, everything you wanted. Because you have the passion, you always have it. So, I see it, the colors of the world.