I hate yellow.
I spent half of my life in a world so perfectly yellow.
But at some point this color became synonymous with sad events.
The yellow ribbon I was wearing on my hair when dad walked away.
Or the yellow cinquecento I was driving the night I had a car accident and my
best friend got injured.
Or even another time when I almost died from bee stings.
Just imagine the funny picture of the doctors making the following announcement
to my bereaved relatives «Unfortunately, we lost her due to allergic shock.
The poor thing succumbed to the insect bites. »
When I met you I was wearing a yellow dress.
I thought that maybe this time would be different.
I remember when you touched my hand and you said «Come on, let’s get out
of here the two of us»
«I’ll show you a new world and I will put you in it as my queen.»
«And I will kneel before you.»
And you kept your promise.
You revealed a beautiful yellow world to me, a world full
of laughs, touches and smells.
And we lived together in this paradise you created and for one moment
I believed that this awful color may eventually become pink.
And I felt happy, indeed.
Until one day you ran out of antidepressants.