It's all Prussian Blue.
By itself, an unremarkable shade. It's beautiful enough to be noticeable, but not enough to make one think twice. It simply exists. It's not my favorite color, not even close. In fact, I particularly despise this mixture of pigments. It won't leave me be.
My room is Prussian Blue. Blue tiles, blue cupboards, blue drawers, my days the same. The splashes of vibrant, pastel or even dull pigments seem to lose their way and be swept away by Prussian waves. The colours speak to me, they tell me they made the day a beautiful canvas of vivid hues with their pinks and purples, just for me. The weather is perfect; the sun is shining, the skies are clear and no sign of that overbearing blue. However, I cannot see any of it. No one can. I believe everyone just chooses to ignore the film of Prussian that overtakes every reflection our eyes are able to comprehend. It's as if we're all in the deep and unforgiving ocean, I seem to be the only one unable to breathe underwater. I guess they've grown accustomed to it. Everything is Prussian Blue anyway.
The moon’s light is nearly impossible to see, lest I squint, of course. She tells me her glow cannot be blue, because it cannot be anything. I don't know why she lies. I can estimate its tone, I know what it is. Doesn't everyone?
I do wonder when the last time was, when my vision was clouded not by this blue haze, but by the childlike wonder that appears when spotting a uniquely flawed flower. Ones with spots that look like they were haphazardly painted on to add distinctness. They're all the same now. Sometimes, I can recall memories basked in iridescence, but they can only play for so long before the blue consumes them too. It's very hungry.
It isn't satisfied with casting a shadow over all that exists under the light. Sometimes, it chooses to steal the place of the slight colour that fights to exist in this world. It obstructs my vision to the point where I cannot make out the reflection in the mirror, where I cannot recognize my hands in front of me. The blue stays this way until it can no longer. But I think it's getting stronger. These periods of temporary blindness last longer. One day it'll come back to me and trap me in its inescapable hold. It will be too devoted to its hunger and I will be too tired to realize its grip is a vice, not an embrace .
I'm afraid of the Prussian Blue. I know that someday, the blue that surrounds me will claw through my skin and seep into my veins. It'll consume my heart and reach every crevice of my form. Maybe it already has. I can see her. In the mirror, I seem to be blending into my room.
I am Prussian Blue. No one will be able to see me engulfed in such an unnatural hue, as they can't even see it everywhere else. They won't see it, not until the blue leaves nothing left to hold, not until the blue steals the warmth from my body.
Not until I am Prussian Blue and cold.
