Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Bury Me In All My Favorite Colors
Bury Me In All My Favorite Colors
1 reviewA short piece about a patient, can be interpreted as any member of MCR. "I wish white was blue. I wish white was yellow. I wish white was green. I wish white was any other color than itself. But it...
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I wish white was blue. I wish white was yellow. I wish white was green. I wish white was any other color than itself. But its not. It's white. Just white. The color of... nothing. I read in the third grade that white was all the colors of the rainbow put together. They lied. It's just white.
I felt a pinch on my arm, the general suction that you get when they take blood. The cooing of my nurse in her brightly colored scrubs. 'shh... don't worry... this won't hurt too much..." She lied too. My eyes started to flutter. My arm starting to feel sore, my skin now purple from all the needles. I've always hated needles. Now I just don't care anymore. It's just normal now. She took the now maroon vials, gave me a toothy grin and handed a remote to me. 'Why don't you watch some TV dear?'. They would always tell me that television would rot your brain. They didn't lie about that. I gave her a halfhearted smile, as was expected, and she walked out of the room.
I turned the television back off, and decided to lie down. The sheets made my skin itch, but I'd gotten used to that as well. I looked around the bleak room. I wonder when it will all end. I wonder when I'll finally be out of this room. Apparently, this room is meant to keep you alive. They lied about that too. I didn't feel alive. I felt dead. And I know the only way I'm getting out of this room, is in a body bag. The doctor says that I do have a chance to recover, that I might make it. He lies as well. My eyes flickered around the room. The white room.
I've gotten used to the fact that I'm going to die. Everyone dies. But I know my time is soon. I don't know about the afterlife. I don't know what's waiting for me. I don't know. But right now, I've gotten past the point of caring. I don't really care about anything anymore. Not summer rain. Not dew covered grass. Not perfect sunsets. Not star filled nights. Nothing. I'm dead inside. And it'll only be a matter of time till I'm dead on the outside as well.
I feel nothing. I don't smile anymore. I don't cry about what's going to happen to me, I used to, but not anymore. I don't.... feel.
This white has engulfed me. It's taken my soul. Its destroyed my dreams, hopes, aspirations. It's made me this shell of a human. It's made me nothing. It's made me dead. Black isn't a somber color, white is.
White. The color of these hospital walls. The last color I'll see.
I felt a pinch on my arm, the general suction that you get when they take blood. The cooing of my nurse in her brightly colored scrubs. 'shh... don't worry... this won't hurt too much..." She lied too. My eyes started to flutter. My arm starting to feel sore, my skin now purple from all the needles. I've always hated needles. Now I just don't care anymore. It's just normal now. She took the now maroon vials, gave me a toothy grin and handed a remote to me. 'Why don't you watch some TV dear?'. They would always tell me that television would rot your brain. They didn't lie about that. I gave her a halfhearted smile, as was expected, and she walked out of the room.
I turned the television back off, and decided to lie down. The sheets made my skin itch, but I'd gotten used to that as well. I looked around the bleak room. I wonder when it will all end. I wonder when I'll finally be out of this room. Apparently, this room is meant to keep you alive. They lied about that too. I didn't feel alive. I felt dead. And I know the only way I'm getting out of this room, is in a body bag. The doctor says that I do have a chance to recover, that I might make it. He lies as well. My eyes flickered around the room. The white room.
I've gotten used to the fact that I'm going to die. Everyone dies. But I know my time is soon. I don't know about the afterlife. I don't know what's waiting for me. I don't know. But right now, I've gotten past the point of caring. I don't really care about anything anymore. Not summer rain. Not dew covered grass. Not perfect sunsets. Not star filled nights. Nothing. I'm dead inside. And it'll only be a matter of time till I'm dead on the outside as well.
I feel nothing. I don't smile anymore. I don't cry about what's going to happen to me, I used to, but not anymore. I don't.... feel.
This white has engulfed me. It's taken my soul. Its destroyed my dreams, hopes, aspirations. It's made me this shell of a human. It's made me nothing. It's made me dead. Black isn't a somber color, white is.
White. The color of these hospital walls. The last color I'll see.
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