“What’s the problem with just blue and white, Sarah?” my psychiatrist asked me, trying to understand the madness behind my words. It was just an obsession, I knew it long ago.
“Are you asking this seriously?” I asked him, arching my eyebrows, surprised how he couldn’t understand, “who wouldn’t want some red in their lives? Just a great addition to the lonely white and blue who are so sick of one another already.
The red, sir, the red is everything about this. The temptation, lust, eagerness. It is the red that the blue and white need”
He nodded, laying his mouth on his thumb “so you are saying, the red makes you feel….”
“It makes me feel good. Empowered, independent, invincible” I interrupted his words so he couldn’t be wrong about what the powerful red does to my life. “You see, the blue and white know everything about each other. They are incompatible, like oil and water. So, the white goes to seek something mergeable, till it encounters red. It is all about red, their culture, manners. Red is so different than blue and white sir, it accepts you. “
“What is so…different for you, Sarah?”
“Once you stare, once you observe you notice things you have never thought of before. Their attire, accessories, speech, language, even their skin sir, their body's hairs. It is the differences that attract the eye, the passion.”
I never wanted something different from myself, but lust got me. How could I ever resist this red fantasy?
“The red is the stain that connected two great nations” I was trying to explain it to my psychiatrist, why I was into something so foreign and unshared with my surrounding.
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