My life is like a multi-colored retractable pen, and the multiple colors represent different types of moments that once they happen, they’ll be written into my memories.
Sometimes they’re written in pink, sometimes they’re written in blue.
Sometimes the color switches jam.
Things don’t always work right, but sometimes the pen works perfectly.
Everything that has happened and what I did is written in pen.
I try to scribble over the dark purple ink with a light yellow color to get rid of a memory, sometimes it works, but mostly it all smears.
That’s okay though. The good and bad mix together. Written in ink.