Definition Essay: The Color Red

There is something soothing about the color red. Although it is a strong color that warns of passion and anger, it is also the very thing that runs in humanity's veins. Red is the symbol that halts vehicles in their tracks. C'est la couleur de les coquelicots, les roses, et les épines. Red is the shade of the binder that wraps tightly around my chest, pacifying both my fraying mind and traitorous heart. As volatile as this color is, when it curls around my lungs it calms me: when it pushes down my chest I am at peace. Despite the comfort I find in red, the world is still very wary of these pigments. This is understandable, as this fear is born from a deficit of acquaintance, as well as a lack of understanding as to why this color exists in the first place. What is not understandable; however, is that people cannot seem to move past this discomfort. They see a sliver of red underneath the collar of my shirt, and lunge like sharks in the face of blood. They clamp down their jaws, and, no matter how hard I fight, they don't let go.

It is the color of martyrs, those who die for their cause whether they want to or not. To ease the visceral, soul-deep anxiety, I must forgo the full expansion of my lungs, the use of facilities that most consider a universal right, and heat stroke and dehydration in the summer months. And, in return, my body does not betray me, and words deflect off of my self-imposed armor. I am grateful for such a small price to pay, as others are swindled for far larger sums than I… It is easy to forget that red also symbolizes death. Red calms me, yes, but that does not take away from the fact that it is a fearsome drake: demanding hoards of offerings, and eager to set the world