My World In Color

November 1998 was a unique fall. The air felt cooler, the leaves seemed plentiful, and the world seemed warmer. Tristian had just started in his senior year that September. Each day was a reflection of the last; school, lunch, study, then relax in his secret spot in the woods.... repeat. Until one Friday afternoon at the end of November life started to look a little different. It was 3pm, Tristian had just finished hiking into his spot, his hammock tied to the trees to enjoy the sunset. Usually he was alone. The sun started to set, leaves fell from the trees, and the light breeze left nothing else to be desired. Tristian felt at peace but in a split second that all changed. The leaves were heavy, their colors were no longer vibrant but rather dark and dead. The wind was blistering with gusts heavy enough to knock you over. The sunset was bleak and the orangey yellow haze turned from a bright shining beacon into a slow dark and twisted night. Tristian tried to run but no matter how fast his legs moved the colors never left him. Instead, they followed him. As he ran through the woods the colors became heavier, the world became darker, and with each step they were more horrifying. Once Tristian arrived home he skipped dinner and immediately went to hide under his covers counting over and over again until this madness was soon gone, as he kept telling himself it would be.

The time passed and as the hours ticked, Tristian had counted to 100 for the sixteenth time that night and finally fell asleep. His body was so worn out that, as he awoke, the colors were no longer. The world outside was grey, the clouds a thick and hazy brown, and the sun, well that was nonexistent. Tristian had never felt so tired in his life but he did finally feel safe, safe enough to get up and try to at least enjoy some of his weekend. Breakfast was served.Tristian was lucky he had two loving and enjoyable parents. Breakfast brought some warmth back into Tristians day, he spoke to his parents about his ideas and plans for the weekend, but did not dare explain to them his experience yesterday in the woods.

Tristian knew as he grew up that he was different, it was as if everyone else’s train fit on their tracks. While Tristians always felt as if there were another set of tracks, slightly crooked, at most points they were repetitive circles. His train drove around the track, over and over. Even when he did not want to be a passenger, he was a hostage in his own mind. The tracks we're shape shifters. They often changed, once a week, everyday, and sometimes every hour.

Breakfast with his parents was followed by hours of time with his friends. They laughed, rode their bikes, and even settled down for a campfire, full of stories and s’mores. The day itself was fantastic, yet some how felt so bleak. Tristian spent the day laughing and telling jokes, but inside the colors in his world were still so neutral. The good things seemed okay and the bad things well, seemed horrifying. He entered another night of sleep, just at this point hoping and praying for an answer for what was going on with him. Tristian woke up to a smell, it was that of marshmallow that had melted and stuck on his shirt from their fire earlier that evening. It smelt like old melted glue in a factory. His body shuttered. Tristians mind brought him back to his time spent in surgery as a kid, the smell reminding him of the surgery glue. That melted glue and the harsh smell of the anesthesia caused him to gasp and gasp for air. It was all happening again. He was back where he said he would never be again. The doors to the operation room opened, his eyes start to fade, and with out any control left he falls asleep to the sounds of beeps and alarms. “AHHHH”- he proclaimed as his mom shook him awake. She held him and reminded him that he was safe, home and healthy. She held him until he fell back asleep. The sleep that lasted about 15 hours. Tristian did not wake up until 1pm the next afternoon.

The sun was shining. The birds were chirping and the sky was the bluest he has seen in what felt like months now. Tristian retracted back into the woods. He felt at home again. The colors around him were calm, they were soothing, and they felt as they should feel. Tristian felt content. The colors, they would change again. The wind, it would feel heavy again, and the leaves they would fall fast again. Yet, until then he decided he would enjoy the time his train was in fact on its tracks and learn to love the times it was not. Because, there was beauty in darkness and horror in light. It was just up to him on which he would choose to entertain that day and to that he felt committed. To that he felt calm; and to that he felt home.