It's that one color that confuses me when I see it. Though it's just a color, it somehow strikes me as the most ambiguous color that I've ever seen. There's not one set story that it could tell just by bleeding its color into it. There's not one idea I could pluck from the depths and assign it to the color.

When I sit down to gaze or think about the color, I can't help but wonder if it's supposed to emulate freedom or sadness. Is it just the color that we see in the skies and the seas? Is it the color we feel when depression holds us in its heavy arms? Should it be a color as obvious as we've seen it been used figuratively throughout the history of literature?

Maybe blue shouldn't have a label.

Maybe blue should just be simply blue.

Instead of attributing the blue color of the curtains to the fact that the main character must have felt depressed, perhaps the author decided to write the curtains as blue on a whim.

To someone else, perhaps the color blue doesn't make them feel free or sad at all. Perhaps it's the color that makes their face flush and heart thud when they see it. Every single time they see it, they're reminded of the blueness of her eyes and the reflection of their love in them. They'll claim it's like staring into twin mirrors with rose-colored glasses after drinking their fifth cup of coffee on a Sunday morning — that the color blue is the color they love the most because whenever she smiles and the corners of her eyes wrinkle, they can't see anything but that same color.

The color might remind someone of that faded nostalgia that laps softly against them as they stand before a photograph. Maybe the people within the photograph are not here anymore, but the emotion lingers. Fingers brush against a familiar figure, and a smile comes to that someone's face at the memory of a friend. They remember the last time they were able to laugh together while running through the first snowfall of winter and the emptiness of the next winter when their friend had long passed away. It's not sadness that they feel — it's a sense of fondness and longing for those days.

Still, perhaps the color blue has no meaning to another. They could say that blue is an emptiness or vastness like the unending sky. It's a color that makes them feel nothing at all, and they couldn't possibly describe its effect on them if it's never been weaved into their life as significantly as it has to others'.

To me, the color blue is still somewhat of a mystery, and perhaps it will always be, but only time can tell.