COLORS

Nothing.

Bleak, empty, dull.

Nothing.

As I observe all the other artworks around me I felt jealous. Jealous of how colorful they were, how lively; unlike me.All I can do is imagine, imagine what it would feel like to be one of them. What it would feel like to be someones work of art. To be someones most treasured masterpiece.

I started to wonder, did they started out like I did? Did they started out as a blank canvas lacking color; lacking life? Did they all started out empty? Were they all just like me? I wonder what it felt like to have someone color your life, to have someone treasure you like you’re the most beautiful piece of art they made. I wonder what it felt like to have someone sign their name on you to tell the world you belong to them.

Oh, how I wanted to know what it felt like. How I wanted to be just like them.Because right now? I’m just an empty canvas waiting for someone to fill in the void. The everlasting void.

I started counting the days, the days until my painter arrives. Day 1… day 2… day 3… and so on. I stopped counting after so many days, I stopped hoping. I decided to accept that I will always be a “nothing”. That I am destined to feel this way.

Until you.

A brush in one hand and a palette on the other.

You saw how empty I was, how dull. You saw how much I lacked color, how much I lacked life. You stood in front of me for a while and as you stood there, my heart raced because I knew, I knew right away that it would be you. You would be the one to fill in this void, this emptiness. You would be the one to color me free from my hopelessness. You were going to be the one to make me come alive. You were going to be the one to bring out the best in me.

Every moment we spent together the more colorful I became. You started painting blue skies, calm waters and beautiful sights and so much more. You started filling every space that once was empty. You made me feel whole. Soon, every part of me was alive. I felt so alive. I felt life rush through my veins. It felt so great. Happy, whole, colorful and contented. I found solace in you and I believed you felt the same.

After you filled my emptiness with a splash of bright colors, you got closer to me, close enough for me to see your brown eyes filled with contentment, happiness and love. You then picked up your brush and signed your name on me for everyone to know that I was yours. Once you did that, it felt like all the colors on me shined brighter than it ever had. I was now yours and yours alone.

You showed me off to all your other fellow painters. You told them about us and you kept on telling them about us. Soon, they became fed up with the repeating story about you and I so you pulled out your brush and palette once again and started painting.

I got confused as you tried to paint something more. You tried to bring out the”best” in me not knowing that you already did and that there was nothing left to bring out. You started painting over my original colors trying to turn me into something else, something I wasn’t. Suddenly the wrong colors mixed and it turned black, gray, dark. You were trying too hard not knowing that what you’re creating isn’t a lively painting anymore. You replaced the blue skies with dark clouds and added rain, you turned calm waters into deadly tsunamis. You tried to “fix” me without realizing that there was nothing broken and because of that you ruined me. You were killing me, you were killing the best of me. You got angry at yourself and I could see you were angry at me too. “What did I do?” I asked myself, I let you in and that was it. I didn’t bring any harm to you but you brought harm to me.

You got tired of trying to “correct” me but still you never left me but I knew deep down within me that you’ll just be a distant memory.

Soon another blank canvas arrived and you saw the opportunity to paint something better. As you turned your back against me and dropped your overused brush and palette to the ground I knew it was the end of you and me.

I saw how you painted the other canvas with excitement in your eyes and how careful you were to make sure everything was perfect. Watching you paint someone else made my dark colors become darker. I didn’t know back then that black could be any blacker and that gray could turn any grayer. The raindrops you painted on me became thunderstorms and hurricanes. I suddenly felt a whirlpool forming in the sea you painted and a black hole occurred out of nowhere eating up all that I had left.

You walked out with your new masterpiece in your hand and I couldn’t stop you. I waited for you to return but you didn’t. That’s when I realized not all painters create lively works of art.

I started to feel empty again just like the blank canvas that I was. But this time? I am no longer blank for I have been tainted by the colors of you and I.