Living in Gray

The color is gray.

Gray is the color of the walls around me — hard to discern what material it is cast from. As I run my fingers along it, I thought, this feels like concrete, but yet, the unrefined lines suggest a material natural like stone.

My mind wants to figure it out.

Gray is the color of the floor beneath me. As my feet graze its rough texture, I had an inclination to decide that this is simply cement, yet something tells me that it could also be inspired porcelain.

My mind wants to figure it out.

Gray is the current color of my future, your future, each one of our futures. Gray cloud-like masses seem to cover what lies ahead. Some of us can see that and remain comfortable in our ability to sit and watch these masses dissipate in their own time to reveal more.

But some of us cannot tolerate such uncertainty and would deliberately pour a giant coat of black or white paint over this fuzzy image.

Predict! Predict! Predict!

And then make your predictions come true by self-sabotage.

Our minds want to figure it out.

Gray is the color of the world where I am learning to live in now.

Yesterday, it feels fucking uncomfortable.

Today, it feels somewhat exciting.

Who knows how it might feel like tomorrow? And that is the beauty of gray.