Emotion is an autonomous world. It has its own form, its own color, its own atmosphere. A person does not belong to these worlds; they pass through them. The essence lies not in holding on, but in moving: emotions exist as spaces of experience that open, are lived through, and then disappear.

If I gave my emotions colors,

blue would become disappointment.

Cold and transparent, it pulls me inward, into emptiness.

Yellow is shame.

It shines too brightly, exposing the hidden.

Orange is suppressed anger.

Red that has not ignited lurks in the shadows.

Violet is the emotion hidden behind a veil of silence.

Pink is hurt.

Soft on the outside, but fragile within.

I remain.

Not the colors.

Not the emotions.

I walk through them—

and beyond.