Undead Anonymous

And Now A Word From The Color Red

(Author’s Note: While I realize in my previous post that the color Yellow mentioned how Red was a man, he was mistaken. As I started writing this, it became apparent that Red is indeed a woman. So I apologize for any confusion or lack of continuity.)

People are always asking me why I’m so angry.
Telling me to slow down.
Suggesting that I wear some sunscreen.

I’m not sunburned, bitch. This is my natural coloring.

You have no idea how many times some young punk has walked past me and coughed the word “Visine” into his hands. Or what it’s like to have to deal with the constant barrage of relationship-challenged men telling me I look hot.

What I want is for people to just shut the hell up and stop projecting their perceptions of what they think I represent on to me.

Passion.
Embarrassment.
Anger.

They don’t understand what it’s like to go through life with these expectations to live up to, always being associated with some manufactured image of love or power or sex.

Roses.
Ties.
Lipstick.

And then there’s Green who is always hitting on me. Says we belong together. That we “complement” each other. Like peanut butter and chocolate.

Stoner.

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