The Mermaid

The color of my childhood is nearly always blue. Sort of like a Royal Blue, but darker, not as rich, and more antiquated. It gently enfolds everything, like a warm woolen blanket that is a little bit scratchy, coloring the atmosphere of my memories. Brown is also very much apart of my past, as well as other washed out or neutral colors. I'm not sure if my past really was these colors, or if it's just the distortion of the dust that coats them my mind. But regardless, this blue permeates through my childhood. It's not at all a gloomy kind of thing... nostalgic, yes, and perhaps dreary and sleepy like a rainy day, but warm, like when you can see the white light of a cloudy day seeping through the fibers of your sheets on an early morning, but you sigh and let yourself drift off to sleep again because you know you have no obligations for the day.

I find myself seeing these colors more often as I grow older. I wonder if it's because I'm becoming more aware of the amount of time that has passed. I remember realizing how glorious it was as a child, and telling myself that I would never forget the wonderful memories and experiences I'd had. But still, it's hard to recall them all, and sometimes I find myself discovering old memories buried deep in my subconscious like an amnesiac's epiphany. And now, I find myself inexplicable drawn to those colors of old, seeking to reconstruct my past in an attempt to regain something of myself. When I go to sleep at night, I close my eyes and the darkness envelopes me. I think of that blue, a veil over my eyes, and it turns into water, an ocean.

I am a mermaid in that ocean with long hair-- I've always loved long hair-- and a magical boy comes to me in a boat everyday. I love him deeply, and he loves me too. He is completely absorbed by everything that is me. He asks me questions everyday about what I think, feel, dream, and I love his devotion and I love his beautiful heart. I want nothing more than to care for him for eternity. In the morning I wonder if I'll ever have someone like that. It doesn't matter that I am with someone at the time, whom I love or don't, this boy is someone different. I fearfully wonder if he's just a figment of my imagination that will never exist, a proverbial "dream boy." But I don't think he is. Everyone I've ever loved is in him. He is a beautiful amalgamation of them all. And so, it doesn't matter who I'm with, who I will be with, what happens ultimately. Because everyone will always be there, with me always, in him, my love, You.