Andrew East

One way I navigate my life is by envisioning the world in infinite spectrums of color. I hesitate to use that word because color sounds elementary and is so founded in the ocular; it has to be absurd to limit things such as personalities, numbers, and language to seven classifications. Despite what my rationalist side would like to assert, however, I am but an eye sensitive to the illuminations of my surroundings. I subconsciously gravitate towards the things I associate with violet, for example- towards music that sounds "purple" and literature I can read in wine and indigo. With the discovery of these, my personal life can be crafted into a monochromatic color scheme, with occasional contradictions and nuances.

However, I am uncertain to whether what I experience is more a case of mild color synesthesia or an attribute of my idealistic tendencies. I often use my perception of the world to build grievously high expectations for myself, especially in how I choose to present myself to others. In my vision, an ideal world is one that is poetic, and I would like to inscribe myself into the poetry, so that I may be able to reach perfection. Sadly, the words droop, the meter fails, and I struggle to replicate the ideal I expect of myself.

Although I have struggled before and still struggle on occasion to feel satisfied with my imperfections, I am learning to accept that not everything can be ordered accordingly, like on a spectrum. There are many grey-toned imperfections I would like to eradicate, in life and in myself, but I am learning that it is the absence of aesthetic that has molded me into a more complex and introspective individual.