Cadence

She wondered at the colour, what colour in itself even meant at all. All her life, she knew a portrait of black and white, and it made it easy for her to fall into extremes. In the day, she was the girl with candy in one hand, and a balloon in the other. To the outsiders, they saw the balloon as red. She did not understand red. She saw all its beauty in sinister black. When night came, and all comfort of colour ran away, there she lived in bliss, there she lived as the mad scientist, who did not seem so mad at all to her dog.

She would experiment, to find out what the meaning of life was, what the meaning of her existence was. Still, night after night, disconcerted portions after chemicals, she would find no answer. It was an orchestra that floated naught on angel's wings, but crashed with the ferocity of the stigmatic wall against her. She concluded that she had a role in this world, and that was, to show the world what monochrome was, what it meant to be mad, and what it meant to be innocent.

The world neglected her, cast her against one side, and she cried. She cried, not because of the loneliness or segregation, not because of the prejudicial eyes that slit her, not because people saw her as different, but because, simply because, she had failed the world.

And possibly, it was at that point, she knew she would never be a part of them.