Yuck. My walls were green, and I liked the earthy, calm theme that my room held. But that did not go with my current yinyang craze. So, what to do? Oh yes, paint the walls white with a singal horizontal black stripe, holding a line of yinyangs within it! Well, my walls are white, and my mother refuses to buy black paint.
White... it's plain, not pure like many think. And -- thinking in the scientific light, which I usually think in -- it's not pure in the least. White is merely a mixture of colors, which, when you describe a mood or something along the lines of that, it works the same. White can mean joy, it can mean bliss. It can also mean a blankness, a void. That it what my room is now -- a void. A horrible, unoriginal void that has tore any ounce of sanity I had left.
And if that were the case with everyone, why put the "mentally challanged" people in plain, white rooms? In plain, "snug" white jackets. They hardly have any sanity before entering that horrible void, so why put them in there?
It hurts my eyes. It makes me sad. It seems that I'm stranger than I thought. How could I ever have thought that anyone would me remotely interested in someone such as I? Foolish... completely and utterly foolish.
But, I digress, though my point still remains. I hate white.
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