From where I can see things today, things and people are not what they seem like. Every action has a reason, a story and a grudge behind it. Life would have been easy if things were painted in black and white, sadly it’s covered in grey. A complete mixture of two opposite colors; thus this leaves us to the conclusion that nothing can be labelled. If nothing is as dominating as black or white then how can we be sure about love or hatred? Who labelled people as ‘good’ or ‘bad’? Who invented the word ‘perfect’, when nothing is as clear as black or white? Nothing is complete then I guess; nothing can be as strong as black or white. Then why cry or bleed? Why expect complete answers when you know nothing is as clear as black or white? I term them as illusion/imaginary colors. The day we all realize that these colors don’t exist; life would probably be less complicated. I've started seeing the color ‘grey’ as the only happy resort.