Monochrome

Back then when I was a little girl, my dad used to say, “be like black and white, they have no doubts,” a lot.

It was already 6 in the morning when I got up. White bed sheets instead of blue — my favourite colour. Plain white paint on the walls instead of geometric wallpaper, plus, no single photo of me hanging there. Medicines imstead of my smiley-face-shaped alarm clock on the night stand. And the thing I hated most about this place — room 203 sign instead of Rachel’s room on the front side of the door.

Dad told me not to worry, he told me that everything was gonna be alright, yet when I looked at him, it was full of worries.

I picked up my phone and opened the camera app. “Look at that. The face of a dying girl. Is this how you’ll die?” I said to my reflection.

“Hey, Rach,” Dad was standing beside my bed, startled me. “You’ll be okay,”

“But Dad….”

“Remember black and white? I’m sure you can go through this. Don’t doubt yourself,”

“Dad.. Nothing’s ever definite, even the black and white — they were grey all along,”

*Inspired from Paul Dano’s quote “in tragedy, it’s hard to find a good resolution; it’s not black and white: it’s a big fog of grey.”