Yes, I fear white. Why? There’s a reason, I hate how “perfect” and “pure” it is, I preffer, instead of saying: “the wolf disguised as a sheep.” I usually use: “the red using white’s body.” I know sounds like if I was a deppresed kid or interpretating, but I wouldn’t doubt to say I feel a punch on the gut, I had this made for days ago, and I couldn’t decide to publish it or not. For me, Hell is not a fire land, filled with physical pain and horrorific creatures, but a quiet, calm, still, peaceful and patient predator in disguise. I even made some sort of poem for this: “I looked around the corner, white, white, white and only white. My hands trembled, my eyes flicked, my ears looks for sounds, There was no torture, no fire, no beasts, only a stillness that broke my mind, I felt everything fall down, fall down, fall down, or at least hoped to. The cruelty played by the same monochromatic entity, no hands reached for heavens, No breeze, not hot air, only coldness carried by no a