In a Thousand Different Ways

by Cecelia Ahern

Her colours are still there but they’re muted by the calming colour of the pill. It surrounds the mood, suppresses it, clings to it like white blood cells attacking bacteria, only the problem is the pill doesn’t know what’s a good colour and what’s a bad colour, it hugs every colour she has, even the good ones, dulling everything down, making meh her primary emotion.

if you don’t feel your own pain, you cannot recognise it in others. Our own suffering can cultivate the ability to help others.