My favorite color

On this Friday night, all hope is lost. When everything I wanted has been blown away in the wind, I find myself alone. Alone with my favorite color. My favorite color being fresh blood on the white tile floor. Ha! I’m just kidding. Got you good, though. Can you imagine? Could you imagine me starting an entire paper with that beginning? I’m laughing just thinking about it. You’re thinking, “Oh, Ty wrote a nice piece on color; how lovely.” Then it starts off with most dark shit ever. You’re three sentences in, see two more pages, and know you’re in it for the long run. But hey, I saved you from that dark stuff.

If you’re disappointed then you have a fucked up mind. That’s okay; me too. This was going to be a love letter to all the other colors in the world. Green grass, blue skies, white clouds, and the rosy cheeks of some drunk guy. As I write that, I’m kinda annoyed by a love letter to the world. But the world does need more love. On the other hand, sometimes the best way to love is by exposing fear.

I do love rosy cheeks. Rosy cheeks on a cold day. On a drunk guy named Dale or a baby named Steve. It’s not the color red, but it’s close. I like the glow of joy. You know, when someone gets some praise for doing good, they have that glow? Yeah, I like that color. It’s nice, it’s radiant, and needs no words. Hmm, what else? Sunsets. I love sunsets. I know, yes, so do you, and so does everyone else. But why? What is our obsession with sunsets? They happen every day; nothing special about that. Granted, not all are good, but it’s a weird obsession, no? To be honest, I think sunrises are better. Bright oranges, yellows, pinks, and purples. That it is in the morning, signifying a new day, makes it all the more better.

What else, what else, Jack? Whatchu thinking, Jack? I know sunsets was a good one. Give me something else. Something new! Two lovers on the street? That’s good, Jack, but we got to stay on the topic of it being a color. You’re getting there, though; give me a color. 

Love doesn't have a color, Jack. A. Color. C’mon.

You can do it. Just think.

Think you got something? Let's hear it.

Yes, yes, you’re a genius, Jack. It’s not really a color, but it kind of is.

You want me to tell them? The most beautiful color in the world?

Oh geez, Jack, didn't know you were such a romantic. Damn you are a real catch. Okay, yes, yes, I’ll tell them I’ll tell them what the most beautiful thing in the world is.

A mirror

With you

Your smile

Your eyes

Jack thinks he’d like to see you in a mirror.

He’d like to see you smile

You gonna deprive the world of such beauty? Jack tried his hardest to come up with this, you know damn well I’m trying my best. Now it’s your turn. Look in that mirror, see yourself, and show that damn nice smile to the world. Out there, they need you. Jack and I need you. The world is showing you colors in the form of skies, lakes, rivers, and wildlife. Now it’s your turn to start contributing. Show the world that smile; show the world some of the color you got.

Okay, I thought that was the perfect ending for a story, but I guess it is not good enough for Reedsy. Not enough characters they tell me. Hell, if I'm paying $5, is that not good enough to post whatever the hell I want? I get having a max on the amount of words but also including a minimum? That incredulous. Shut it, Jack. I don't care if that's not what that word means; I don't care to look it up and check if it actually means that.

Tell me, Jack, let's hear those thoughts.

Geez, Jack.

Goodness, man. Who hurt you?

Okay, I gotta cut you off, Jack. Reedsy isn't that bad. They been

pretty good to me.

Jack, it's not Reedsy's fault no one wanted to read your 100,000-word biography of Anakin Skywalker. No one has time to read that shit.

Okay, being able to sneak the Costco Guys into something like that is impressive, I got to admit, Jack. You really did that? Damn. Maybe Reedsy did screw you man. Hey, maybe someone will read this and be interested in your biography. You're trashing it? What do you mean, Jack? It's a 100,000 words, and you're gonna give up on it? That ain't you, Jack. That ain't y-

No, I can't recommend you to my editor. Jack, stop putting me in awkward positions like this. When my editor says he enjoys Sci-Fi, I don't think Anakin Skywalker is part of the discovery.

No, that still makes him Sci-Fi.

Jack, calm the fuck down, it's not that deep. Everything under the sun is Sci-Fi these days. Hell, someone might say this shit I'm writing is Sci-Fi.

Right? Gotta be done. Do I write another ending? No? Alright.

My goodness, Jack. They are really testing me with this. They really are trying to weed out some of these people from submitting anything about their favorite color. What's that, Jack? Yes, I know they think they are doing good by making a 1000 word requirement but they're actually limiting the best writers because the best communicators can communicate the same feeling with half as many words.

I'll give them an example, Jack.

A good writer and a great writer are given the task of writing about um, hm, let's just say their favorite color. Both writers' favorite color is blue. A good writer will tell you why Blue is his favorite color in 1000 words. A great writer will spend 990 words talking about complete bullshit only for him to tell you in like 10 words at the end of the essay that his true real favorite color is green and it's green because his eyes are green and green shirts look really good on him.