In the entire 30 years that I've been living, I've never understood why my parents named me Rainbow, nor have I ever bothered to ask them for the reason (that's if there's any). But if there's one thing I do understand, it's the fact that there's nothing colourful about my life. If I had a representative colour, it'd probably be, blank. An empty canvas, not even a white empty canvas. Maybe nude colour, like, something really really pale. I feel so empty, I always feel so empty and being an only child with parents who are obsessed with making sure I have a particular kind of life, doesn't help. Until a month ago, I would never ever admit to the fact that I live an empty life and now that I've finally admitted it, well, I guess it's time I found out why I was named Rainbow.