A vivid rainbow of crayons scampers across the pearlescent white parchment, trailing behind an alluring, but illusive line of despair and ruination. Snapped, bent, and broken, the richly pigmented army of crayons flees with dread from imminent atrocities. Much as humanity behaves, the crayons are petrified, and their natural instinct is to scurry away. As the crayons bolt haphazardly, they inadvertently scribble across the ground, leaving their mark on the world. Humanity acts the same as crayons do, timorously scrambling from what they are afraid of and creating something deceitfully delightful in the process.
After the crayons have hid in their musty and flimsy cardboard box for weeks upon end, their surroundings as black as ink, they eventually abandon their secluded world and enter into the sunshine of carelessness and joy. In this nirvana, the crayons gracefully melt and are re-shaped into a new identity, and are given new life. Just as after tragedies, such as war and death, humanity naturally recovers and is made superior by their mistakes.
The crayons’ box is now filled with the aromatic scent of rejuvenated existence. All the crayons stir from their serene rest and migrate into a frivolously stimulating state. But, as always, another undesired problem with the newly made crayons arises. In this doleful instance, only some crayons find themselves mangled and utterly disfigured. Although at first all crayons knew each others’ struggles, now a mere portion experience a disruption from their newfound peace. And from this, up arises the concept that not everyone should be created equal.
Meandering down the once tranquil road, you no longer discern the vibrant fragrance of harmony or hear the crayons prattling without a care in the world. Instead, you view a jagged cream trail splattered with the melted remnants of crayons’ wax and smell the scent of scorched happiness and unity smoldering in ruins. Their society, which was full of candied truths and sweetly glazed facts, has fallen, as though abducted by the grasp of turmoil; the grapple to regain unity with us.
Every day, humanity chooses one colored crayon over another, one colored person over a different colored person, one choice over one that seems inferior. When faced with a difficulty, humanity tends to dart away, causing a change to something, either beneficial or detrimental. After humanity has run away and cloaked themselves, they reappear once more and construct a new world that encompasses euphoria and merriment. But, as always, problems with this untainted world start to appear and the monotonous cycle of humanity’s behavior repeats itself ad infinitum. Crayons represent, in a very simple and candid way, humanity, and how we choose, think, and live.