Earth.

Is that something to be seen? Is that something to be heard?

It is something to be felt.

Can you feel it? Can you feel the ocean waves against your soft skin?

Can you feel the rough dirt beneath your calloused feet from walking?

Can you feel the anguish in your heart as you look to the sky and see nothing?

No. You cannot feel anything. A single thing. You’ve lost it. Everything you’ve had.

And so did everyone else.

The love they used to feel began to shrivel into nothing but emptiness.

They have lost the happiness they had experienced when they looked to the sun.

They have lost the weight of the stress they had on the shoulders. But, losing that turned out to be awful.

They have lost the appreciation of their privileges.

You used to look at everything in colour—the trees green, the ocean blue, the people dressed in every hue.

But, the colour has drained. From your mind, your body, your soul. Not only yours, but everyone else’s as well.

Can we stand a world without colour? Without the emotion needed to move our day along? Without the rays of the sun on your skin while wearing that beautiful sundress your family had gifted you?

We cannot. We will not.

And so we left.

But, they ended up taking us before we could.

With his hands running down my body and his lips on my neck, I know what he wants.

As he bit down gently, I let out a little squeal of pleasure. Oh, god yes. His fingers are like magic, placing them everywhere I need them.

“Please,” I had whispered into his ear, a smirk decorating his face.

Fingers tracing my body, up and down, his lips moved down, stopping between my legs, that damn smirk across his lips again.

All I needed was him. He can invoke feelings I never knew I had, deep from within. He continued doing so until I was shaking and whimpering; a satisfied mess.

Crying.

What colour can that be?

Is it black? Similar to that of nightfall that can shield my emotions from those who care.

Is it red? Just like the blood that beats inside my heart, only to turn into anger.

Is it green? The equivalent of the fear that I feel when I realize that these emotions are real.

Is it blue? Almost indistinguishable from the sky above me before turning grey, ruining what I’ve unlocked deep inside me.

Or is it orange? The way the sunset is in the distance, reflecting the water that flows down my face.

No. There is no colour to what I’m feeling—to what the hole inside my body that is beginning to pour out contains.

They are clear.

And clear is blank.

Call me naïve,

I’ll accept it.

Call me insecure,

I’ll accept it.

Call me ignorant,

I’ll accept it.

But call me mad,

You’ll never understand.

Madness is the leaves falling off of the trees in autumn, only to be swept away by the wind without a trace.

Madness is the blue sky being covered with grey clouds, only to wreak havoc upon everything they touch.

Madness is the roads bustling with people who are not happy but simply pretend to be.

Madness is what I see daily.

But, madness is also how beauty is seen by one person—how it is judged.

There is never one single definition to madness. There never will be. You can see it all around you. It is yours to view.

Madness can be wonderful or destructive. It can bring a smile to a face that had nothing there. It can also take that smile away.

You choose to interpret it. I see madness in myself. The madness allows me to see into others. It is lovely.

Call me mad,

I’ll accept it.

But, you’ll never understand.