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I leave my room quickly after hearing Chaowen ask if I’m home; for some reason I think her voice is shaky and worry that she might be emotionally distraught, remembering the last time she came upstairs to cry. She’s perfectly fine; she holds out an orange leaf in front of me.

“I picked it up for you!”

I smile. The orange color is beautiful. Almost translucent with hints of golden yellow around the edges. It looks like a little flame. I take it from her and study it for a few seconds before snapping a pic for Instagram.

I’m almost forcing myself to post stories at this point. I usually want to share everything I’m doing, what’s happening to me, the colors and joys of life. But recently, I feel gray and plain. There’s nothing I really want to show the world. I want to hide away. Things aren’t as colorful as they were before. I swipe through the filters on Instagram, trying to find the best one in which to color my little leaf in the poor lighting of my apartment.

Chaowen texts me later a much clearer picture of the leaf when she first picked it up. It’s vibrant and lively. Her fingers are slimmer than mine, her nails delicate and clean. I love that picture. Green grass, hints of blue sky, and gray clouds appear in the backdrop (also beautiful), but the leaf is crisp and clear in the foreground. The top of it looks like a little dancing wisp of fire; it lights up the whole picture.

“I thought of you when I was picking it up.”

It’s not uncommon for my close friends to gift me with orange things. They know my obsession with it and how something as simple as an orange hair tie could make me shimmy for joy (thanks Judy). I love orange. It lights up the room. It’s bold. It’s warm. It’s friendly and inviting. It’s so happy. It’s everything I want to be.

I wonder why people say they feel blue. I don’t feel blue. Blue is calm. Blue is peaceful. Blue is quiet. I don’t feel like a color; I feel colorless.

I feel like static. I feel like white noise. I feel like fog.

What am I trying to say?

I want to be hopeful. I want to keep fighting. I want to be strong. I want to be orange. I want to keep fanning the flames. I want to be light and color in the midst of gray.

My soul is very weary. Depression is fucking hard.

I feel far from God because it’s been so hard to pray. I read His Word and feel nothing, retain nothing. But, even still I know this: He is faithful. This has happened to me before and He brought me out of it. I have cursed Him out before and He blessed me in return. I have questioned His goodness multiple times and He has never left my side.

So, I will trust in you, Lord. Even when I feel like I’ve gone colorblind – I will keep trusting you.

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