Black

Black.

One of the two colors I knew well in this world.

It was the color that I associated with ‘nothingness’, which was kind of silly in a way, because it also helped define what I called ‘somethingness’—the color white.

White implied that something was there, while black implied that nothing was there, but at the same time black also outlined the white to give the ‘something’ shape and form. In a sort of way, both technically implied ‘somethingness’, but black also implied ‘nothingness’.

Which was why when I saw the blue girl disappear upon walking into the black ‘wall’, I wasn’t surprised, but rather, curious.

I stood up from my seat and walked down the outlined pathway until I reached the corner where she had disappeared. There on the ground was a couple of stairs that seemed to lead downwards, and right in front of me was the black wall.

Undeterred, I walked down the steps and passed through the black wall, making my way out into the blank white world. When I turned around again, I took a good look at the structure that the girl had called a ‘bus’.

It was sort of rectangular, and long with rounded corners, and slightly lifted off the ground by a set of circular things underneath it. I kept staring at it, trying to make sense of its random appearance, but after a few seconds, it began to move, startling me as I watched it disappear in the distance, leaving me alone in this empty white canvas once more.

I looked around the place. The girl was really gone and had disappeared without a trace.

Today was a weird day—weird but interesting. Maybe that’s what the girl meant by ‘weird in a good way’. The occurrences were strange, but they made this world a little less boring by happening.

“I hope we can meet again,”  I recalled the girl saying.

I hoped so too.

                                                                -✧─✦-. ⁺【❤】⁺ .-✦─✧-

The walk home was longer than usual. Perhaps being on the bus was the reason why. After all, it was capable of moving, so it wasn’t too far-fetched to believe that it was doing so when I was on it without realizing.

I looked up at the sky above me. It was pitch black—a sign that it was night time.

I liked the night for this very reason, because it was easier to differentiate the ground from the sky. In the morning the sky was white and blended in with the world around me.

Other than my home and the bus from earlier, everything else was white with no outline, so exploring ‘not home’ was mostly boring, and I only did it because there was nothing else to do.

Which was why it was a shame that I only felt sleepy during the night. If I had the choice, I would’ve much preferred being nocturnal and exploring the empty world when the sky was black. After all, being able to see the horizon versus not being able to, made a big difference in the enjoyment I got from exploring the world.

I looked towards the horizon—the place where the endless white canvas seemed to end and stretch upwards into where the endless pitch black began. Sometimes I wondered how endless both things really were, or rather, which thing was more endless than the other. I would often debate this with myself, flip flopping between different answers depending on which one felt like winning at the time.

In my current state, I decided that both things were equally endless. It was just a silly question of whether an infinite somethingness or nothingness was more infinite than the other anyway.

I continued wandering around the world, following the different movement rules as they appeared. Despite how randomly they always seemed to pop up, I always knew which exact movement rules to follow. Sometimes I had to turn a specific direction, or climb something and stand still, and other times I had to sit down and wait for a few hours like the bus. I didn’t know how, but it was like a hidden instinct that I knew which movement rules were applied to each area in ‘not home’.

After about another hour of wandering around, upon making a left turn, a black outline of a white box in the distance suddenly appears in front of me.

My house, I realized, I’m finally home.

I made my way towards it and walked through the black wall at the front until I was inside.

There were a lot more things that were outlined in here than compared to anywhere else.

For example, to the left of me there was a small table, and to the right was my bed—my favorite place in the entire world. I had travelled to a lot of places in ‘not home’, but I had yet to find something more comfier than my bed.

On the table there was the outline of a small rectangular object known as paper, and right next to it was a sharp pointy thing called a pencil. I liked my paper and pencil; it allowed me to put down my own outlines on something whereas I couldn’t anywhere else. Sometimes I spent time putting down random lines on it because it made my day a little less boring, but today was one of those days where I didn’t feel like it.

I walked over to my bed and slumped down onto its nice, comfy mattress.

Yup—just the way I liked it.

Staring up at the white ceiling above me, I realized I was a little afraid. This type of situation happened every night before I went to sleep. I was afraid of dreaming, because my dreams held nothing in them.

Perhaps it was reflective of my real life state—wanting nothing, desiring nothing other than just not wanting to be bored—or perhaps it was because dreams were based on the things I see throughout the day, but in this empty world of white and black, there was no real material available to create any.

I closed my eyes, enveloping my vision into the pitch black nothingness.

Let's just get this over with.