Work Text:
Once upon a time, there was a place with many mirrors.
All who looked upon these mirrors saw themself, ugly and disgusting, and hated it. They wanted to appear like another, who wanted to appear like another, who wanted to appear like another, and so forth.
These people changed themselves to be more like that other, and as the cycle continued, they all became the same.
Grey skin with pulled back grey hair and two grey eyes looking out upon a grey world. They wore grey shirts and grey shorts and grey shoes, walking upon grey grass and grey paths towards grey houses with grey rooms.
When one was born, they saw everyone else, and the warm colours that should have filled them from head to toe were quickly vanquished to appear what would be considered ‘normal’.
When one looked into one of the mirrors again, they saw everything that was still different, and crushed it. They never knew that nobody would ever stop caring about themself enough to notice the difference.
Soon enough, everything the people touched was grey. Forests, trees, rivers, lakes, towns, cities, people, life itself. Did any of them deserve to be called ‘people’ anymore, or were they just blank slates, devoid of any individuality that allowed them to be human?
I woke up one day, looked at myself in a mirror, and couldn’t see anyone. I only saw a grey body devoid of life and soul.
I cried then, for the first time since believing it would make me weak.
When I looked back at the mirror, something surprised me. Red circles beneath my eyes. I was elated, for you see, it had simply been so long since I had seen any other colour other than grey, grey, grey. And I realised a simple thing.
You cannot be truly human without colour.
I washed the grey off my skin, off my hair, off my lips. I stared myself in the mirror with joy as my true eyes turned upon the warmth, the absence of cold, or even the presence of it; anything was better than neutrality.
My hair grew, I chose new dresses and skirts and jumpers and sneakers, I wore makeup and accessories and read books and drew and did so, so much more than I had ever done before.
When others turned their eyes upon me, they laughed. But when they looked at themselves, they realised how I was different. How that scared them, but also excited them, encouraged them to be different too.
By the end, we were all finally ourselves, free from the grey. There was colour, there was warmth, there was individuality, and even though people still found dislike in themselves, we all knew now that others felt the same, and we would never make the mistake of hiding ourselves again, becoming another, and locking everything away beneath our skin.
Because who are you if ‘you’ is kept under a layer of flesh, never allowed to see the light of day?