A Better Version of Me

Friday 12th of June 2020

This morning I woke up with this consuming , paralysing panic, this terror in the pit of my stomach. It’s still there, fragments of it anyway, lingering tremors of fear and anxiety, spreading outwards through limps, down to the tips of my fingers. If I had to give it a colour, it would be yellow, yellow claws tearing at my body.

I tried to meditate it away, that’s what you’re supposed to do, right? Maybe it helped a little. Near the end of it I saw myself, but it wasn’t me, perhaps a better version of me, a girly version at least. Curly hair, just under shoulder length, make up or just flawless skin. This lookalike wanted me to heal and brought me into this golden yellow light. We talked for a while, about the future, and she told me her name was Medea, and that’s all I’m going to tell you about that.

Yellow seems to be a recurring colour today. I needed an new pencil, so I pulled one out, from my secret stash, the one that came to hand was a mustard yellow with the word ‘appreciate’ on it.

For most people, I’ve learned, yellow is the colour of happiness. For me, yellow is the colour of disgust, sickness, fear. If the sounds ‘ugh’ or ‘eww’ had a colour, it would be yellow. What does that say about me?