Colors.
When I was 15, I realized I could see the world in colors. Some people recognize the tone of someone’s voice, or the smell of cut grass, or the taste of a certain chapstick. I feel them all through colors.
I can’t tell you how exactly I see it. To be completely honest, the way that people think and process and see differently confuses me to my core. I can’t understand it because I can’t see or feel the way you might see and feel. I don’t physically see colors when I think about skinning my knee, but I can tell you the memory associated with that pain, and I can tell you the color it makes me think of.
Skinning my knee as a child falling on the pavement feels like bright red. Getting road rash over and over on my right leg while rollerblading feels like a deep crimson with ribbons of soft blue (specifically my right leg; I never fall on my left). The sting of the pain shooting down my leg, surrounded by the cold fresh air of the morning.
I can tell you that hospital rooms make me think of mint green and sterile white, the two colors you often find in the floors and hospital sheets. But not only just because you find those colors there, I can feel the softness of the mint in the pain of breaking bad news. I can feel the harshness of the white bearing down on those close to death. Two sickly colors, one soft and one sharp. That is how hospitals feel to me.
Plane flights alone sparkle in the sunlight like silver. Other than take off and landing, I love plane flights. Gliding among the clouds, looking down on the rest of the world below you, peace and calm. The four times I have flown on a plane alone, I was going to and from England to visit my girlfriend, Eva. Planes feel sleek and fast and silver. Sparkling silver.
The seasons also have colors associated with them, in my mind.
Cut grass is a soft yellow. It is a warm ray of sunshine that warms your face in the summer. Chlorine and wet towels are a glittering blue, like sunlight on rippling water. Summer is yellow and blue. 
Winter is a cold icy blue. The taste of gingerbread cookies reminds me of a deep red, this one inviting. It doesn’t beckon you away, it brings you in and smothers you in a hug. 
The smell of fallen leaves is a beautiful orange. The feeling of oozing pumpkin guts is the same color. Fall is orange and yellow and a pale brown color, much like the trees that line the roads to my childhood home. Spring is a light green crayon shade, the growing grass, the blooming flowers. Chilly breezes and the end of a school year. 
Different songs remind me of different colors too. Rickey Montgomery’s album, “Montgomery Rickey”, reminds me of a blue so pale it looks like it could be white. Comforting like soft ocean waves, it reminds me of a soft blanket and a fluffy pillow. 
Mitski’s album “Bury Me At Makeout Creek” is a deep sage green. The sadness and darkness in the lyrics and the time I obsessed over the album leave a brushstroke of a darker color in my heart.
The taste of pomegranate Burt’s Bees chapstick is a soft pink and reminds me of Honors Journalism 1, sophomore year. 
The taste of my watermelon lip gloss tastes like the summer of 2020 and reminds me of the color of a bright sunset.
I love the way I see the world. I love the colors of my life.
Meg, I absolutely love the colors of your rainbow. I know exactly what you mean when you say you see the world through colors. When I was in elementary school, half of my time would be spent listening to the teacher, and the other half was trying to decide what color each of my subjects was. I decided on green as science, blue as English, red as math, and social studies didn’t get a color because I hated it. Obviously moving into high school meant the amount of subjects I had doubled, so I went into overtime – orange as French, purple as economics, blue (again) as orchestra. However, I don’t usually think of colors when I see things, I think of people. Every letter of the alphabet and number has a personality and face that I can see clearly when I think of it. Isn’t it weird that the human mind can see completely unrelated things as complements, even when we are taught to see the world through an analytical lens? I guess I never really thought about it, but seeing the number 1 as a tall, brunette soccer player and 6 as a girl with pink light up Skechers is a little counterintuitive.
I really like this blog. It is a neat way to look into your understanding of life. I think, if I had to assign it a color, it would be a soft yellow.