August 9th, 2022

Dear [redacted],

Red is my second to least favorite color. I've never liked it, and I'm not sure I ever will. I'm sure you'll find that ironic since it's your favorite color. Ever since I learned that (what, four years ago?) it's haunted me. The color red. It's everywhere, behind my eyelids when I face the sun, on plastic cups at parties and the liquids are a little suspicious, in the reflection of water on roads in the city on rainy days and the street lights scream stop. It's the color of love, and the color of hate. That's where I think we are sometimes. I can't tell if you hate me or not. Do you pretend to be my best friend? Why do you keep me around? Red is you, in my mind. You are love to me, and I am hate to you.

Red. What an amazing color. I wish I could like the color red. Maybe I can train myself into it? I'll look at strawberries and fiery sunsets, maybe even a firetruck or two. I'll read good books with red covers, and I'll drink iced cherry juice in the evenings. It can't be that hard, I've been drowning in red since I found out you liked it. Pavloving myself into adoring red sure would make my life easier. At least then when I see things that remind me of you I can like them a little more. I already wrap myself in them, so maybe they'll stop being an eye-sore.

And maybe I can stop seeing red as a reminder that maybe you hate me.

Love,

~