White

⎯⎯⎯⎯⟢◉⟣⎯⎯⎯⎯ White I'm white. Yes, I'm white. They say white means pure, clean, transparent, holy. Natural. Neutral. But all I see is how easily I disappear. Stroke after stroke, I'm still not noticed. Still not chosen. Still not seen. They think I'm white paper. White canvas. Not knowing I'm white paint. So I try to sit between colors, between the loud ones and the dull ones, hoping contrast will finally give me shape. But I'm mistaken for emptiness. An untouched space. A pause. A place where nothing exists. I'm white, yes. But all I do is blend. I hold other colors up. Make them brighter. Give them room to exist. And when the painting is praised, no one mentions me. I don't want to be white anymore. Not invisible. Not background. Not the reason others shine while I fade. I want to exist without needing contrast. ✐☡ messy me ☡✐