In my mind, when I read I see each word, letter and number as having a colour. When I read stuff about synaesthesia though, I don’t agree with the colours of the letters or the numbers they use to demonstrate the condition.
Is it a condition? Makes it seem like an illness, something undesired and which should be cured or treated; I don’t agree with that. I like seeing colours in the things that I read and write. Hell, sometimes I’ll even consider altering what I’m writing because the colours don’t look right and I feel like I need to change the word to make it fit in better (though not often!).
Also, the colours shift. I try to narrow in on specific shades, but that’s when the colours shift even more. A quick glance out of the corner of my mind’s eye is the only way to view the colours and get a handle on what they are. Most of the time, I only notice the colours in the back of my mind and don’t really pay attention to them; a casual observation of the obvious which is then quickly dismissed.
The word hunger is papaya whip, but the individual letters of hunger are
The colour of my hunger is the blackness of the hole in my stomach waiting to be filled, my body being a white frame around the hole, it being superfluous to this one, overwhelming feeling which completely distracts me from anything other than finding food of some kind to fill the gap, so that I can be whole again and notice that I am in fact made up of many colours.
Based on a prompt from CreativeWritingPrompts.com