avia | two tumblr stories (Reply)

In the dark, she can see colours better.

Not colours like most people think, but Colours, the colours in people’s hearts and souls. They light up from the inside like street signs, shades of purple and pink and green and blue.

She has learned to read them, and she has learned a lot about people, by doing it. She learned that the purple ones are the dark hearts, the people full of shadows. The yellow ones are full of life. The pink ones love a lot. The blue ones, they are dreamers. But, also, she sees that no colour is bad. Dark and light, brave and frightened, social and alone… nothing is really bad.

And she walks through the world with a warm feeling in her heart, knowing about that truth…

And, in their eyes, she glows gold.

“It’s so pretty, darling,” they say, in their voices that everyone else thinks sounds like a song, but you think is just annoying. “You look beautiful. Tidy. Like a lady should look.”

You know exactly what they mean, and they know you know, even if no one says it. Tidy, with your wings bound, hidden away painfully inside your back. Like a lady, fit for the social world, not a wild faerie maiden who dreams only of dancing under the sky with your wings stretched high towards heaven.

You are only “acceptable” when your true self is shoved inside your body and tied up with pretty lace, and you know this.

It makes you sick.

More than that, it makes you want to fly. Push those wings out in public, knock the pretty crystal glasses and the perfect displays of food that take hours to prepare, and scream and cry like the bird you are, like the wild thing you are. Make a mockery of everything they call beauty. Show them what is true beauty, not their little fake versions of it but the real thing, strange, heavenly, never tamed.