Gray. When I shut my eyes it�s like I�m watching television in 1953 and everything is colorless. Some people say they dream in red and green and blue and purple. My dreams are scary, much too painful to remember the shade of the shirt you were wearing in it. And now this dreary outlook has bled, not only into my everyday fantasies, but it�s taken over my everyday. Period.
You call it pessimism, I say I�m being realistic. You think I�m sad, I assure you my mouth naturally frowns. If I�m tired I�ll sleep, if I�m upset I�ll cry, if I can�t take care of myself I�ll let you know.
The world is ugliest when the winter snow has begun to melt on the streets and it turns to chunky, smelly, gray mush.
