The place where the colours aren't

I went there again. That place where the colours are muted and the air is thick and heavy. It's really not a nice place to be. But I went.

I know you don't like it when I go there. It makes you feel uncomfortable and maybe even a little embarrassed. There she goes again, you think, off to that awful place. Why does she let herself go there? I don't get it.

The truth is, I don't get it either. And I have very little choice in the matter, really. One moment I'm here with you, and the next thing, I'm in the shadows of high concrete buildings, the heat is stifling, I'm gasping for air.

And it's weird, you know, because I can still hear you talking to me, almost as though you were right beside me, but you're talking through a pillow and your voice is a little softer and muffled. You ask me where I went, and I say that I'm still here even though I know that I'm not. You shuffle your feet and look around you, possibly to find something to hold onto. It's awkward, I know. You feel helpless, like your words aren't quite getting through. And you're anxious that I will make you come and find me in that grey otherworld.

I won't. Because I can't. And even if I could, I wouldn't. There's not enough space in that infinite smokey realm for you. And if you did, somehow, find me there, I would worry about how I would save you from it. For me, I know that my visit in that world is limited. After a period of time, the murkiness spits me out. It will always spit me out. When it's done with me. But I'm not sure what it would do with you. I couldn't bear to take the risk.

I know you don't like it when I go. I don't like to go. It hurts every time. But whenever I go, I find a dull sliver of me resting in the gloom there, and I bring it back with me. When I am expelled from that place, and you see me in colour again, you will notice that there's a little bit more to me; I'll be a little bit bigger, a little bit better.

And sometimes you might worry because I've been gone too long. Don't fret! I just haven't found that hidden bit of me, that's all. Sometimes it takes longer than other times, but I will find it, and I will be spat out once more, and then I'm all yours once more.

You should know that I don't like this other reality, but I've grown to accept it. It's easier than fighting it. I can't expect you to do the same, but maybe, one day, you'll be able to give me the space I need to move in between my rainbow life and my monochromatic animation. It's just easier that way.