I Hate This Flower

I hate this flower. Whoever created it needs a thorough dressing down. I can't look at it for more than a few seconds before the stirrings of a migraine are felt. Scientists at a medical hospital in Harvard University discovered that the hue which aggravates migraines most lies somewhere between red and blue, and the hue which not only doesn't make migraines worse, but can lessen their intensity by 20%, is green. Making this flower in the greenhouse a complete arsehole. Poison which lives surrounded by its antidote. Earlier this afternoon I brought some dirty clothes down into the kitchen to be washed, and from of the corner of my eye spotted a recipe book for smoothies on the side of the worktop which was the same garish colour as the flower of evil in the greenhouse. I just remarked out loud to no one really...

"God....Another one! I really hate that colour."

My mum was also in the kitchen at the time, and took my comment a bit to heart I thought, which was odd, and then almost began sticking up for this smoothie recipe book like my comments might have caused it offence! :D

"Well why do you have to look at the book then? Just go about your business instead of hating it", she stated.

"It's not the book that I hate. It's the colour. I hate things that colour"

"You shouldn't just hate something because of its colour. The book had no say. That's racist!"

"It's not racist! I can justify my hate for this colour because each time I warmly accept it through my eyes it gifts me a splitting headache for no reason. The colour is the one being aggressive here, not me! It's impossible NOT to see a book wearing a colour like that. It wants all of the attention, all of the time. And it's so exhausting on your mind to be in the presence of anyone or anything that continually asks you to notice them. Eventually, mental fatigue has to show up as the only thing capable of saving your sanity by numbing the effects of being mauled to death by magenta.

And its foolish people like me who feel the obligation to reassure colours that were born to shock, that we haven't forgotten they exist, whether they have taken residence in a flower or a in smoothie recipe book, in a clown's wig or a magician's waistcoat... - we, the chromatically naive fools of this world shall continue to extend our supportive gaze towards these painful pinks and promptly pay the price, being repaid in piercing pain for our dutiful efforts...

Well I say, no more!!! To hell with hues that live lives like that!

"Hey buddy!.... Yeah, you! Come over here for a second. I wanna tell you something... Say, how do you like that deep throbbing pain behind your eyes that should be kicking in right about.....now?"

"You really enjoy watching me suffer don't you, you dazzling little shit!". Although my expression had retained its indifference, he'd finally managed to get under my skin. A slight growl to my whisper had given it away as I sat staring at his eyes of pure fuschia, wondering why anyone would ever have a need to design a colour so....

"BEN!!! OK!! OK! I have things I need to do today", mum shouted.

"Before you go back upstairs don't forget to take the belt out of your jeans before putting them in the washing machine please"