Author’s Note: Some weird one-shot.
Colours of the Heart (performed by Uverworld)
I am a painter.
Every human is a painter- the young and the old, the strong and the weak, and the optimist and the pessimist. Different people paint different colours. Their auras, you say. You’re not wrong.
Aura represents the person. Aura is the person. It’s kind of like your soul, only dyed in varied colours, depending on your nature, character and personality. Like I say, it varies from person to person.
We hear about aura when we are younger, when fantasies were part of our world. We grow fascinated, desperation mixed with curiosity as we try to figure out our own auras. The problem about auras is this- they are naked to the human eye. Some say only psychics are gifted with the ability to do so. Some say there are special people with natural gifted insight.
But I say, that if you look hard enough, you just might see it.
As I mentioned, I am a painter. My works are quite well-known in the area for its vibrancy and energy, although I have to admit it was not so.
Sometimes, to reach glory, you must reach your breaking point first.
That day, I remembered my heart collapsing without making a sound. It just seemed to fall endlessly in some bottomless pit. Even if I scream as I break, these unerasable memories and this darkness will flow into my eyes. It’s a constant torture as I still can’t see these colors. It’s because of you that I will feel depressed tomorrow.
I still remember that hard look on your face, that very look I always hated. Your eyes were blue with cold and your jaw was set firmly. Your words were sharp, a direct force sent whistling into my chest.
“It’s over. I’m sorry.”
The most ironic thing? You didn’t seem sorry. You looked angry that I could not spend time with you. You were frustrated with the fact I was working with other guys. I warned you many times over and over again. It looks like your jealously has gotten the better of you. And here I was, thinking foolishly that you were reasonable and strong-willed.
You left me so abruptly and I was left speechlessly stunned. You left me, hanging. And the question I kept pondering repeatedly was the simple but deep word. Why?
I remember chasing after you. Calling after you, like some lost puppy. I had searched endlessly and frantically, trying to patch up our relationship whatever way I could. I tried to find a day, where we could finally understand and make up, where we could love each other again.
But it was too painful as I watched myself get pushed away by you. Your strong arms that used to be the castle that protected me from the rain, now became the fortress. The wall I could never get past.
And the only thing I could do back then, was to bear the pain, hold on and move on. I kept living so I could lose those painful memories. But yet, it was impossible for me to continue living alone, even as I willingly embrace the solitude. Yet I was always hoping, grasping that delicate thread of hope, that you would turn around, and become the lighthouse I needed.
If you had switched on the lights, I would shine towards it. No matter the hurt you caused, I would always go back to you, forgiving and full of undivided love.
You told the person persistently holding on to those feelings of love for you: “These feelings we keep wishing for will one day change color.” So that was it, wasn’t it? We used to talk about happy colours, colours that brightened up moods with their vibrant optimism. And yet, you were able to turn it into a double-edged sword.
It wasn’t fair. Colours were my gift. They were my friends. And you turned them against me too.
One more time…just one more time…
I locked myself in my workplace. Losing things wasn’t new, but losing someone precious, someone I had faithfully followed and loved, was totally fresh and new. You slipped through my fingers like sand. Before my tears finally dried, I wondered if the words I desperately wanted to hear would save me. After all, a rip in my heart was hard to paint over.
It was ultimately, all up to you. My fate was now in your hands. You were going to make a choice: to leave me or save me.
I closed my eyes. Hoping fervently. You never did came, though.
“If this light becomes bright, the darkness will become deep too.”
I had slowly begun to awaken with realisation. Just about everything was in the bottom of my heart- locked in a tiny chest and squished into the deepest part of my mind; away from sight and mind.
All I had seen was darkness. Absolute darkness. But it was not cold- or rather, it was comforting. A blanket of absolute darkness enveloped me. My life was nothing but black.
My brush sweeps across the canvas….inked strokes of darkness….
Maybe, if I opened my eyes, I might be able to once again see these colors that were born. The colours that I used to love. The colours we used to share.
The colours that symbolised the passion we used to have.
The breath of sadness; that is what makes these colors we’ve searched for run without raising a sound. A gentle breath, across the canvas, swishing a melancholy tune.
One more time…once more…
Yin and Yang.
Fire and Water.
I never truly realised what I was drawing.
I always did assume I was just drawing.
Colours in light and darkness….
And take it in…
A dip of a paintbrush…
The strokes on the paper…
The intake of a delicate breath…
Colours in light and darkness….
Red and brown.
Blue and green.
Yellow and orange.
Pink and red.
Now, with these hands….
I feel it once more.
The fingertips of light raining once more…
Upon my head the shower of renewed energy….
The memories flow by.
Sitting under the swaying cherry blossoms; petals that bloomed with charm flitted above us.
The autumn wind brings the crisp of maple; the rustle of leaves leaving their branches.
Wet, cold and frozen crystals pelt gently, snowflakes cascading ever so gracefully, dancing around us.
Bright and warm, rays of the heavens shine upon us; the summer heat bathing us in its warmth.
I will once again paint all of these unreachable, kind colors.