Shades

Everyone says that nothing is just black and white; there's always a shaded grey area. As of late, everything seems to have peeled back until it's revealed a sickly tinge. Not the dreamy shade from the silent films, this color is much less of a dazzler. It's more akin to the color of vomit after a long day of irritable nausea. I so desperately want to believe the nothing has changed or really will. Then I look outside. Outside I see nothing but rows of trees, grass, and then followed by all kinds of trash. Crinkled chip bags, decaying fruit, and even plastic cups; all of these strewn about. Looking up, I squint at the sun rays shining on my face and it does nothing for me this day. The usual warmth is lacking, like it's mocking me. As if I have lost the right to look upon it.