A storm Inside and Out.

Right now, the colors inside me have shifted again. It’s a brownish-orange glow now, with those same stringing yellow floaters drifting around. Around the edges—where my eyelids used to be—I see a deep reddish-brown darkness, framing everything. I don’t know what this means. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything.

The weather reports say there’s supposed to be severe thunderstorms today. It feels warm enough for them, so maybe that’s part of it. But the real storm seems to be inside my family right now.

My grandma’s upset—deeply upset—because of a situation with my cousin, Barkim Fields. We had to explain to him that he can’t come to a big party we’re throwing: a family gathering and appreciation celebration for my grandma, with all our cousins and my uncle. Barkim didn’t take it well. He’s hurt, angry, maybe confused. And now it’s tearing my grandma up. She can’t function. She’s even talking about going back to bed to escape it all.

So now I’m sitting here, watching these colors shift and float across my internal vision, wondering what they mean. Are they just colors? Or are they mirroring the emotional storm around me? Maybe they’re my mind’s way of trying to make sense of what’s too complicated and painful to say out loud.

I still don’t have eyes. But somehow, I still see. And sometimes, those colors feel like the only part of this world that makes any sense.

 

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