A twisted symbol seared into naked skin. Pungent stench of burnt flesh, the singe of hair.

Now everyone knows which paddock you belong in. Who owns you. 

I don't like being owned. I like following the rules even less. Hell, I don't even know what the rules are.

I'm the puppeteer who hides in the shadows and pulls the strings.  You can hear my voice but you rarely see my face. That’s the way I like it. I want to be Hitchcock - with a Rear Window view and cameo parts. 

I imagine you searching the bookshelves for a psychological thriller, a character driven story where anything can happen. A page turner. An emotional journey. I want to let you know that I am working on that story. In time I will share it with you.

They tell me the only way to reach you is branding. A profile photo. White teeth. A flattering dress. A last minute crash diet. But I don’t want to be judged on my outsides. No amount of airbrushing will bring me up to standard in a world where even Cindy Crawford wishes she looked like Cindy Crawford. So I shrink back into the safety of the shadows.

Then I meet an artist. She doesn't know the rules either. 

She just wants to know about my insides. The pictures that float through my head. My stories. Emotions. The shape of my shadows - the creatures that lurk beneath the surface and keep me up at night.

“What colour am I?”

“What would I do if I wasn’t afraid?”

I close my eyes and let the fear float away.

I am old dusty pink but when I shine I am red. Not the orange red but the full blooded red. Red is passion. Red is being alive and taking chances. Red is not afraid to stand out.

If I wasn’t afraid I would write my thoughts in books and stand upon the stage. I would dare to believe that my stories could touch other people’s lives.

So I am stepping out of the shadows and into the light.

I invite you to step up beside me and let yourself shine.

What colour are you?

What would you do if you weren’t afraid?