Red was the colour of your favourite flower, roses. The first flower that I bought for a girl. The flower that you always liked to receive, regardless of the situation.
Blue was the colour of your skirt, your junior high school uniform. The one you wore when we first met at the entrance test for the high school that we attended.
White reminded me of the packaging of your favourite soft drink. The fizzy drink that tasted weird, the beverage that I hated. The only thing that we couldn’t seem to agree on.
Yet it all changed after that car accident under the orange-coloured sky.
Red became a strong and lasting imagery in my mind.
It reminded me of the blood, as it gushed out from the back of your head as you gradually closed your eyes. The colour of the warm liquid that painted your cold body, the colour that got transferred to mine as I hugged you for the last time.
It kept me awake at night, as guilt filled my heart. The feeling that grew bigger as I saw the pained expression on your father’s face, who was calming down your crying mother as they arrived at the bloody scene.
The guilt that stayed within me, regardless of how many times I bowed down and apologized to your parents.
The feeling that I still get every time I visit your parents, up until now.
It made me think of the accident. The exact memory inside my mind that relived again and again, as if it was a video with a replay button.
The conversation that we were having.
The speed of the car before we hit the railing.
The loud thud as the airbag popped.
The few seconds when we floated.
The moment our car descended the rocky cliff.
The memory that I wished to forget, the memory that scarred me for life.
Blue became this ambiguous connection between the two of us.
It was the colour of the car that I drove that day. The automatic sedan that I brought for the sake of showing-off, unfortunately, became the car that brought an end to your life.
It became the epitome of regret.
The feelings that raised questions inside my head.
What if I had never driven the car? Maybe you would feel disappointed that I couldn’t bring you to the observatory as promised, but you would still be by my side.
What if I had never asked you out? Maybe my high school memories wouldn’t be full of happiness, but you would still be alive and well.
What if I had never fallen in love with you? Maybe this wouldn’t happen and both of us would never have to suffer the way we are now.
The same set of questions that I still ask myself from time to time.
And the same set of answers that I still come up with.
It brought self-blame into my brain. The feeling that reminded me about the stupid idea to bring you to the mountaintop, about my foolish bravery to drive, despite the lack of my driving skill.
The feeling that led to another voice inside my head.
“Why did you do that, Kevin? What were you thinking? Oh, you are such an idiot.”
“Now, look at you, a murderer. Begging for mercy, unable to forgive yourself.”
White became a new ability that I never wished to get.
It was the colour of the creatures floating around at the cemetery when I attended your funeral. Those that couldn’t be seen by naked eyes, those that were invisible to others.
It became the colour of the new you. The one who hid behind the tombstone as you watched over the burial of your lifeless body.
Yes, you, the one who became a spiritual being, who didn’t know the burden of being the one left alive.
Yes, you, the one who stayed behind in this world with a wish to talk to me once again.
Yes, you, the one that I still can see up to this day.
It forced me to think about what I should do.
If I become white too, what would you think of me?
Because if I do, I would be brave enough to see you.
Because if I do, we would be together again. This time, for eternity.
Because if I do, it would be easier to forgive myself for what I have done.
Yet it all changed after I met the green-eyed girl.
Red became the colour of her favourite dress.
It was the one that she wore as she pulled my hands, saving me, pulling me out of the river after I jumped from a bridge.
The me who couldn’t stand to continue living in suffering any longer.
The me who tried to run away from the life that you couldn’t have.
The me who tried to throw my life away, the life that robbed your future.
Blue became a turning point in my life.
It was the colour of the sky when I realized that she made me happy.
The feeling that I got as this green-eyed girl put aside the rumours she heard about me.
The feeling that I haven’t had since the day you died.
The feeling that led me to think, “Let’s end this suffering, once and all.”
White marked the beginning of my new life.
It was the colour of my shirt when I visited your parents. The time when I let out the truth about my ability.
The same time when I asked their permission to move on, to be happy with the green-eyed girl.
It was the colour of the envelope given by your parents. Delivering the letter to you was the only thing that they wanted me to do as a way to atone my sin.
"Because moving on doesn't mean you forget; it means you accept what happened and continue living."
That's what your parents told me as they sent me off to the cemetery.
So, here I am.
Bringing a bouquet of red roses, white envelope, and golden-coloured wedding invitation in my hand, I walk between the tombstones, heading over to meet you.
And as I see your ghost, I gulp nervously.
“How are you?”