Amid the chaos of the unexpected, life reveals its deepest truths through the brief, yet impactful, connections we have with those who cross our paths. Life has a way of inviting people into our lives, even if only for a moment, leaving behind lessons that resonate long after they’re gone. That’s the scariest thing about relationships—the vulnerability they demand, allowing someone to enter our worlds, sometimes inviting them to then vanish without a trace. Yet, within the heart of such pain lies a power—one that can awaken the courage to reclaim our identities and redefine our sense of self. It is through these moments of abandonment that we are often compelled to confront our worth and, ultimately, to choose ourselves in ways nothing else could inspire.
As the rain started to surrender to a dazzling rainbow, each hue began to burst forth with vibrancy. Within the radiant arc, you’re transported back to fragments of a time when pieces of yourself, now long gone, were intertwined with another being. A time when, just as life would have it, a piece of yourself—your spirit, heart—was sucked into another’s and left dangling empty. Fragments that remind you, regardless of the circumstances—be it love or the ebb and flow of life—choosing yourself remains the most profound act of all.
Just like the first ring of the rainbow, it begins in red, like a wildfire crackling with intensity, an inferno that blazes through the dry brush of your youth—days when you were so young, just teenagers tangled in the flames of a new friendship. They stepped into your life, and even though you don’t know it then, for better or for worse, you would never be the same. It felt as if you have always known each other, as if the universe had woven your paths together in a past life. You spend those early years lighting up the night, finding yourselves in the small spaces between laughter and whispered secrets. Spaces that would slowly become the memories of your youth—memories and time you would never get back. Bold and bright, you really did have something special. But red, like all things vibrant, can’t last forever.
Orange arrived softly, like a sunset spilling warmth across the sky, and you linger in the golden glow—a warmth so deep it seeped into your soul, making you believe it can last forever. It’s the kind of warmth that embraces you completely, as if it can hold time still. You savor these moments together, basking in the beauty, but beneath the surface, cracks begin to form. Life, as it always does, intervenes, pulling you apart. Slowly, you drift, faltering in the widening spaces between your words. Clinging to a fading light, you’re both too afraid to admit is slipping away—that sometimes, the warmth isn’t enough to keep people together.
Yellow bursts forth like a field of sunflowers swaying in the breeze—radiant, cheerful, yet achingly fragile. You try to laugh louder, clinging desperately to the warmth of your shared moments, chasing the sun as if its golden rays can mend the quiet disintegration looming over you. But beneath the surface, have formed, like the petals of sunflowers wilting in the harsh light. Betrayal seeps in slowly, like shadows creeping across a sun-drenched field, followed by waves of hurt that fall like lifeless petals—hollow and insincere. Forgiveness becomes a weary routine, an endless cycle like the rising and setting sun—predictable yet devoid of warmth. You find yourself trapped in this relentless loop—apology after apology, forgiveness after forgiveness—spinning like a sunflower caught in the wind. All the while, you watch in anguish as fragments of yourself slip away, like a withering bloom in a once-vibrant garden, bearing witness to the heartbreaking transformation of someone who was once so familiar into a distant stranger.
Then green creeps in—not the vibrant green of life, but a sickly hue, like the murky depths of a stagnant pond. Bitterness starts to ooze into the once-bright spaces where love had flourished, staining every memory with despair. Like an emerald leaf clinging to a barren branch long after autumn’s cruel hand has stripped it bare, you hold on—grasping at the frayed edges of a fading connection. You cling desperately as pieces of yourself are pulled away, your spirit gradually eroding beneath the weight of longing, clinging to a person long gone, convinced that possessing something—even something painful—is better than the aching void of nothingness. Because having something, someone, feels less isolating than the suffocating silence of solitude.Â
And then comes blue. Blue, like the depths of an endless ocean, cold, silent, and vast. What once was has drifted beyond the horizon, far out of reach, swallowed by the sea. You watch helplessly as somebody leaves your life, disappearing with nothing more than a couple of words—years of laughter, love, and shared memories, gone in an instant. Blue is grief—not the grief of losing someone to death, but the cruel, suffocating grief of losing someone still very much alive. Time—so much time, wasted, lost, drained away like water through your fingers. Like the tide, it washes over you, leaving behind only the faint residue of something that was once beautiful and now decayed. You’re left standing on the shore, watching the waves retreat, knowing the sea will never return what it so selfishly took from you.
It’s like a single blue ribbon, worn and frayed—a friendship once fluttering aimlessly in the wind, its color dulled by the weight of sorrow, as if it had been drained of all joy. But with time, inch by inch, a quiet transformation begins—purple bleeds into the fabric, not harsh or sudden, but soft and intentional, like healing woven into every thread. The blue lingers at the edges, but it no longer holds power; its sadness gives way to the rich, regal hue of purple—a symbol of growth, wrapping itself around what was once broken and creating something stronger, something whole.
Years pass, and as the world shifts, so do you. You travel far and wide, wandering through landscapes both familiar and foreign, discovering not just new places but new depths within yourself. Though you haven’t reclaimed the pieces lost in the past, you realize you don’t need to—you have the power to create new ones. Every step of your life fills you in ways you hadn’t expected. In the vibrant colors of distant horizons and the warmth of new friendships, you learn to stand tall, unafraid of solitude. You slowly uncover the parts of yourself that had been buried for so long, realizing just how much of you was hidden beneath the weight of someone who was meant to love you.
You no longer cling to the past or to people who take more than they give. You slowly learn to shed one-sided relationships like dead weight, realizing that true connections are built on equality, trust, and mutual upliftment. You seek out those who challenge you, inspire you, who help you rise, rather than drain your spirit. The blue fades completely, and in its place, you find the vibrant purple of amethyst—a color that speaks to both mourning and healing, to pain and power intertwined.
In the wake of losing someone you once cherished, you discover a treasure far more precious: a deep, unwavering love that begins within yourself. What once felt like an ending becomes the soil for rebirth, where the color purple blooms as a symbol of your transformation. Heartache, you realize, is not just a wound but a doorway—a catalyst for becoming someone stronger, someone more whole. The pain that once threatened to break you instead shapes you, forging resilience in its place. Stepping out of the shadows of neglect, you find yourself bathed in the light of self-worth and purpose. And in this new light, you understand that the most meaningful connections are not with those who simply occupy your life, but with those who honor your worth and tend to your inner flame.
So, as you gaze out at the kaleidoscope of colors that once shaped your entire world, you smile. Time, you’ve learned, doesn’t simply heal wounds—it transforms them into the very soil from which you grow. The harshest lessons, the ones that cut the deepest, are often the most valuable; they strip you bare, forcing you to rebuild, to rise from the ashes of what you thought you couldn’t survive. In that friendship, when you weren’t chosen, when the person who should have loved you unconditionally let you slip away, you made the most important choice of all—you chose yourself.
And in that moment, you understand that your power was never tied to who stayed or who left. It is in the way you continue, the way you refuse to crumble beneath the weight of someone else’s indifference. The life ahead isn’t about being accepted by others; it’s about embracing the strength you’ve cultivated in the silence of your own heart. That you aren’t waiting to be seen—you’ve become your own light, and that is enough.