Green

I hated green for a while— it’s overwhelmingly vile and wild, ever-present, universal, and jaded. I didn’t see the appeal of matcha, but one day it stuck with me. It’s an acquired taste, they say, like when you chose to play "Juna". The shoe prints of your Dunk Low, neptune green-colored, can be seen in the snow as you walk with an emerald green cap, holding a cup of green tea latte from a teal-shaded café. I loved all of it for a while, even bought myself a shirt— evergreen like the trees in summer, all year 'round. It’s funny, or maybe coincidental, and I’m not sure which, when I found out that Pisces is your sign. Then it starts to make sense why seafoam green speaks to you. I want to be okay with this, closing another chapter in my Juniper leather-bound book and calling it quits. But I almost never leave it well enough alone. So, farewell to that part of me who dreamed of Aurora Borealis green, invisible things, and lingering feelings. Because to you, it's just a simple shade of green.