...

...And here I am now, standing on the floor, holding my paintbrush and staring at the palette of colours without wondering which one to pick, because I knew from the beginning- I will use them all. Just like my feelings for you-I used them all. I thought I exhausted all emotions I held, all the frustration and confusion and still here I am having so much more to give, so much more to feel.

I look at this blank white piece of paper and I want to fill it with colours, with motion, but it still seems so blank. The blue is not blue enough, the orange is just plain and the red is too bright. You probably remember, I rarely use the black and it remains to be one of your favourite colours.

The brush strokes seem unnatural to me. I make an attempt to change my technique, but it still feels so...dull. I touch the canvas and the paint on my fingertips feels like being barefoot underwater. Then the brush becomes unwanted and I boldly touch the paint with my both hands and splash it over the blank piece of paper. A brush does not seem enough to me, just like your love does not seem enough to me.
I look at the painting and I feel...well the same I felt a week ago. The same I will probably feel onward, the same feeling I want to splash with paint just like I do with the canvas. Just like you did with me and just like you want to forget, because it is so easy, so... you.

...And here I am now, writing this, staring at the blank white screen, but this time it is filled with words. All of them black. I still use my fingertips, but sadly the feeling is not the same. Sadly, the satisfying feeling of paint mixture is gone and sadly I am all alone with my thoughts, which become my words. The words express feelings and the feelings, well they are all over the canvas...all over me.

...And at the end of the day, I am just another soul, and you are just another pain to me.