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Simplicity. I used to long for it. When I was younger, I dreamed. I dreamed of love, war, life and death. I dreamed of epic battles where the heroes always won, where the bad guys died (or at least had their diabolic plans foiled) and the aforementioned hero secured the love of the damsel, recently in distress. Then, as time passed, I learned. I fought, I loved, I lived. Everything I thought I knew was proved wrong. The colors seeped into my dreams, and I saw things as they were. When I saw the world in black and white, I could hide- hide behind the simplicity of it all. But the color meant I couldn't hide anymore. In art, videos and such, color adds so much- it gives life, depth, reality... but in life, color only illuminates the wrongs of our world, the darkness within us. I used to long for the escape of simplicity. I used to long to return to my world of black and white, where I could hide again. I prayed to whatever god would hear me- I prayed that someone, something, would make me colorblind again. But my prayers weren't answered, and the colors deepened.

Eventually, I snapped. I broke. I had had enough. If my dreams would always be darkened by color, then I no longer wanted to dream. I wanted to sleep and wake, with no dreams, no nightmares, nothing in between. I was willing to give up my dreams, as long as I could hide again. Hide in the black and white.

I thought, in my foolishness, that the world I had chosen would be better than my dreams in color. I thought that reality would be better than realistic dreams. I was wrong. Reality was just as cold and colorful as my dreams, but with a tinge of bitterness- that being the fact that it was real.

Now, I long for my dreams. I wish I could just dream again, whether it's a good dream or a nightmare. But the color has consumed me- I've forgotten how to dream.