You know that guy that painted The Starry Night?
You know, Vincent Van Gogh?
Someone once told me that he ate yellow paint, because the color yellow represented happiness for him.
He thought that if he ate the color yellow, he could truly find happiness.
Everyone thought he was crazy, but was he really?
Maybe eating that yellow paint made him feel happy for a moment.
I wondered if I ate black paint as a child?
Maybe that's why my mind is always down a black hole of anxiety and depression.
It would make a lot of sense if I ate black paint.
Maybe people with anger issues ate red paint in their kindergarten arts and crafts class.
Blue is the warmest color, so the most inviting people probably ate blue paint.
And the popular, happy people, they ate yellow paint like him.
I think we all just ate paint at some point when we were little.
We all became the emotions that the colors represent.
I don't think Van Gogh was so crazy for eating yellow paint.
In fact, he was perfectly sane; maybe even genius.
I applaud him for eating that paint.
He wasn't afraid to do anything to find his happiness, and no one should be scared to do so.
So, I think I'll go eat some yellow paint...
But then again yellow and black paint mixed together doesn't make a pretty color.
(A/N: I'm not sure if I actually like this poem of mine, but I felt it better to just post it. It's better than allowing it to die in the notes section of phone after all.)
