A Blue Person

Did you know that ‘I am’ is the shortest complete sentence in the English language? I am. The sentence seems almost rhetorical, and trying to answer it is like an impossible quest, created to never be solved. I am short. I am scared. I am trying. I am blue.

What if somebody were blue? I bet the baker down the road would laugh and point his finger. He does this even to people who aren’t blue. I wouldn’t laugh. No. I’d be intrigued. Mesmerised. Why, wouldn’t it be fantastic to meet such a fascinating person?

I would welcome them into my house and offer them a seat. I would put the kettle on, asking, “Tea or coffee?”, because this is what my parents ask their friends. But of course, I don’t know how to make either, so my mother would walk into the kitchen, tut-tutting and saying, “Give me that”. They would have a coffee and I would have a tea, because I hate coffee.

The blue person and I would have a good chat, laughing and sharing stories like my parents do when their friends come over. They would have the most amazing stories since anyone who is blue would have a wonderful life.

Before we knew it, my father would walk through the door, shaking hands with our blue guest. That’s when the blue person would leave, because they had to go have supper with their blue skinned family. Afterwards, my mother and father would join me at the table. We would eat our supper, all the while chatting away about the person, we met that day with blue skin.

As the story in my mind came to a close, the world around me, the real one, began to open back up. Across my wooden desk, I noticed remnants of dotted watermarks, where a saucer should’ve been. Scars of ink where my hand had slipped off my homework, or the permanent marker had gone through the page. I liked these imperfections. It made the table seem real, not like one of those tables in the magazines. This table has had a lucky life, growing up with a small, scrawny girl like me. Even though I do make a few mistakes, the mistakes gave the table something to live for. Like the table, we too are flawed, but these flaws are part of us, things that make us human. It’s hard to understand and even harder to accept, but we must remember that we all have something to live for, even if we are blue.

It was getting late, so I hopped back into bed and turned off my light. Thoughts came buzzing into my head like a rapid swarm of bees. Usually I would let the thoughts keep flowing through my brain until I had none left, but I was tired tonight, so I hushed the noises and closed my eyes. I let the abyss of darkness swallow me, and I felt comfort as I floated through oblivion.


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