Hello everyone! It's been a while since my last post, and I apologize for the inconsistency.
I'm excited to share something new, inspired by a Sunday conversation. As some people know, I'm not a fan of bright colors, especially in clothes. When someone asked me about the yellow dress I was wearing, a thought struck me: "What if yellow doesn't always want to be bright?" This sparked a creative piece I'd love to share with you. Hope you enjoy it!
Yellow is depressing.
Yeah, I said it.
I think yellow just wants to catch a break.
Tired of showing up and out all the time.
Tired of pretending every morning is magic,
Like sunrise ain’t just the sky’s version of makeup —
Covering the bruises of yesterday.
Tired of being loud in every petal,
Bright in every billboard,
Forced into every smile like a mask made of sunlight.
Tired… of being the happy color.
The “cheer up” shade.
The “don’t bring the mood down” parade.
Tired of showing teeth it doesn’t have,
Tired of pretending it doesn’t crack.
Who inspires yellow?
Who checks on yellow?
Who holds it when it fades?
I mean, who even asks if it's okay
Being everyone's dopamine hit,
When all it wants
Is silence?
Is space?
Is shade?
But nah — yellow's gotta shine.
Yellow's gotta show up.
Yellow's gotta brighten every room,
Even when it's burning out inside.
It just wants to be.
Not happy.
Not hopeful.
Not helpful.
Just be.
Is that too much to ask?
Maybe yellow wants to wear grey for a while.
Maybe it wants to sit in the back of the crayon box,
Unchosen.
Unbothered.
Unseen.
Maybe it’s tired of being the metaphor for morning.
The anthem for energy.
The shade of “yes” when it’s screaming “no” on the inside.
And if there were an off switch,
Best believe yellow would flip it.
Black out.
Burn out.
Bow out.
Because maybe…
Maybe it will glow till it loses all of its light.
Maybe that’s the only way it gets to rest.
Maybe that’s the only time anyone stops expecting it to shine.
Maybe then — just maybe —
It can finally be.
Not a color.
Not a statement.
Not a symbol.
Just… still.
White.
Washed out by people’s expectations.
Carried away by the weight of always having to be present.
Because no one asks the sun if it’s okay.
They just expect it to rise.
They just need it to rise.
They demand it to rise —
Even when it’s setting on the inside.
And yellow?
Yellow’s been rising for so long,
It forgot what it means to rest.
To breathe without glowing.
To exist without performing.
Let it dim.
Let it flicker.
Let it fall off the canvas.
Because even light gets tired.
And sometimes,
The brightest thing you can do
Is break.
Images are mine!
