When I was with him, I always felt like I was floating between red and blue. Suffering laboured buoyancy on an ocean of intense emotion. Yet, the water in this ocean was flat – a straight line connecting the extreme spectral colours of our lives – it was my line of purple. Simple red or basic blue will trigger anxiety or restlessness, unless the undertone is clearly defined. My ocean of purple takes on the characteristics of its undertone.
I edged on Tyrian blue the majority of the time and in this behaviour, my chronicle of self sabotage continued and feint the relationship. For me, blue happened in times of perceived desertion, abandonment and hopelessness. All blue periods, were superficial. Dependency exaggerates the illusions in my mind and a histrionic disorder of me was comical, still chilling at best.
The occasions of red, were scorching, fiery and vehement. It was because of the red, I spent the entire relationship euphoric but resolute and obsessed to keep to me, what I considered mine. Whispering to my mind and understanding with my guise, I was in ownership of more than a colour. It was what I pursued from the beginning of a search I never knew I started. I wish I could have laid it out in lavender.
Never knowing a father of my own and having had my grandmother’s husband die when I was still quite young, I was elucidating what I subconsciously thought a powerful positive male figure in my life should be. Idealistically he would be my cloak of safety and would envelop me so that no harm could penetrate through to me. I would be swathed in his armour of love. I was completely ignorant of the disparity between paternal love and the lust of a sexually charged adolescent relationship. What a romantic notion. What a delusion.
My purple interfered with the relationship.
I was covetous, invidious and mistrustful of any other woman who would speak with him. I was obsessive, jealous and possessed. I would monopolize all of his time, and I would insist he do either the most mundane or daunting tasks. From sitting in obscene silence or ride his bike an insane distance from his home to mine, for no other reason than to keep both eyes on him, lest another female be within breathing distance.
Gardens In Literature
12 years ago