I wish it didn't happen

Black paint

"Oh fuck, what have I done.'' I muttered as I stared at my ruined painting. There was black paint all over my artwork. I had accidently dropped my bigger brush on the canvas. I worked so hard on this masterpiece.

It was made for the little school exposition. I joined my school's arts club last year, cause let's be honest here; it's the only thing I'm a little good at. I even made some friends there, but I'm not really close to any of them. I mean, they're nice and if I tried my best I guess I could become closer with them. I sadly just don't have the energy to maintain healthy friendships.

Painting is one of the only things I enjoy. I was really excited about this work, but now I messed up. Well it's me, of course I'd mess up. My hard work was all gone. I guess it was because I was tired.

I wish it didn't happen.

I was about to rub my eyes but I noticed my hands were stained with paint, I sighed. Now I was going to have to get up and clean them. I slowly got up, my brown hair got in front of my eyes. I wanted to run my fingers through it and adjust it, but I couldn't risk getting the paint from my hands in my hair.

I walked over to my apartment bathroom where I stared into the mirror.

I could see the dark circles under my eyes, probably caused by my messed up sleep schedule. My already-dark coloured eyes looked even darker this way. I sighed once again, I found myself looking like a  depressive arse. Well.. whatever. It's not like I come out of my apartment for other reasons than school or lonely unnecessary walks anyways.

I turned on the tap and washed off the paint that was still wet. Some pigment was already dried up, so I grabbed some soap and tried scrubbing it off with a sponge.

After a while all the paint was finally gone. I could relax, my knuckles hurt a bit from the harsh scrubbing, nonetheless I was able to ignore it.

I decided to go to the kitchen to get a cup of tea. I took one last look at my dreary face in the bathroom mirror and turned around. It was dark in the kitchen, although I didn't bother to turn on the lights. I looked through my cabinets in the dark to find the only teacup I hadn't broken yet.

My brows were slightly furrowed.

I eventually found the cup and made the tea. I burnt my already bruised hand from the hot kettle. It worsened my mood even more. I kicked one of my cabinets trying to release my anger, it didn't work so I took a deep breath and tried calming down instead.

It was already dark outside, I had been so caught up in my artwork that I forgot to check the time. It was exactly 12:03 a.m. Well it's not that late, right? I thought to myself. I can still drink this cup of tea. I took my tea and went back to my bedroom. I sat myself down on my bed and gazed out the window.

The sky was already dark, no stars were visible. Just gloomy dark grey clouds.

It's going to rain. I thought.

The painting I made was a painting of a girl standing in a dark forest holding a candle. I had given her an entire backstory one night when I could not sleep. It was actually pretty good. Maybe I should write it down once and become a famous writer...  My mind wandered off.

Those are thoughts I always got this time of night, though I never did anything with my ideas..

Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I actually did something with my life instead of  working on paintings for hours and then messing up.. I could, right?

No.. no  It's a stupid thought. It's not like I'm capable of doing more than this..

As I sat there in silence I heard the first few raindrops on my bedroom window. I love the sound of rain. The ticking noise is just too calming. And now with my tea late at night it was perfect. No one could disturb me. I tried keeping my mind off of the fact that I splashed black paint over my artwork. I hope I can fix it tomorrow morning. Not now. Now I'm too tired..