I knew from a young age that I love colors. My little world was filled with them. The big people didn't appreciate them like I did. When I was brought home I was given a care bear blanket. I loved that blanket with my heart and soul. You couldn't pry it out of my hands with a crowbar. And that's how I made my first masterpiece. I turned three that day. I was most excited when I got an easel, papers and a paint pallet. When everyone left I got busy with my paintbrush. The intricate pattern was so simple. Each thread, each seam was mimicked almost perfectly with my paints. That was the last thing I've ever painted. Well I've painted more paintings than stars in the sky but none of them count. The joy is gone from it. And I would do anything to have it back.
I can't take it anymore! I need to paint for me. I crept out to the garage where all the paint supplies are stored. You should know it was in the middle of December. I dipped my hand in an angry red paint. It was broiling hot! With a few other colors I painted a fiery expanse of land. Then I dipped my hand in a chilling blue color. I immediately felt cold freezing ice! I painted a frigid iceland. In the middle was a silhouette. A girl with no color,features, or face. Caught in between fire and ice. No money could buy this piece of art because as I realized I said aloud " She's me"!
A blast of heat and cold washed over me and I was blinded by an indescribable light. I looked to see if I was hurt. But I had no color. No features I was just a plain black "Silhouette"! I gasped. I looked to my right; a paralyzing cold came over my right side. I looked to my left; a staggering heat left me dazed for a few seconds." Choose a side!" a voice without a source called. I was still stunned by the heat. Intending to go to the ice side I stumbled to the heat side. All around was pulsing red. Angry, angry, red. The heat was unbearable. Cooking my brain and sense of direction. Stumbling clumsily I looked for water. But the chance of water anywhere here was close to none. I was enraged at myself. For choosing this side. For painting this fiery torture. For everything. My skin burned as hot as the fire. Then the soft white glow came along. The snow never looked so beautiful. I rushed over to the snowy landscape never so relieved." Choose a side!" yelled the voice without a source.
I ventured to the ice side. All around was a vast featureless white plain. The snow was incessant. Coming down in sheets. Nothing could survive here. I drew a heart in the snow so I would know if I'm going in circles.
It felt as if I've been walking for an eternity. I've passed the heart seven times. " What did I do"? I yelled out. No response but my echo in the wind. I try to find the heart in the snow. It's long gone. Hidden by the snow. Just when I think I'll be stuck forever I see a light. I turn towards the sky and, I see me. Three year old me all dressed up. My first painting was being presented in a museum. I flashed a beaming smile. The scene changed. A bunch of people in stiff suits were standing over me . Little me was holding a paintbrush while the people in the stiff suits were watching expectantly telling me what to paint. I started crying. The slideshow continued. Not once had I realized how trapped I really am. I only paint society's idea of beautiful. Never mine. I fell to my knees in the snow. As I finally realized I wasn't lost in this snowy wasteland. I never was. I had lost who I was along the way to riches and fame. I promised myself I wouldn't stay trapped whether in fire or ice. I would make a way to escape it. I'd paint for me again. With the strength I had left in my frostbitten body I stood up. I pushed on. After another eternity of walking I saw a light. A red hot flaming light. An angry light with the rage of the sun. My rage. Another wave of realization hit me. The ice would try to freeze me, leave me discouraged and alone. Like sadness. The fire would eat me bitter and upset. Like anger. Neither would happen; not on my watch. I had to do what made me happy. Find the meadow amongst the fire and ice. Meadow. That was it! With a burst of determination I charged toward the middle. Where fire and ice met. "CHOOSE A SIDE!" the voice screamed. I looked down. Frost was creeping up my leg; keeping it stuck on the frozen side. Liquid magma started up the other leg and hardened to rock trapping my other half on the fire side. I would freeze on one side and burn up on the other. I broke out in nervous sweat. There was nowhere to go. I didn't give myself a chance. Then it struck me like lightning! I love art and I love being creative but when I forced to paint other people's idea of beautiful the love slowly dissipated until it was gone. I didn't speak out. I didn't give myself a chance.
"I CHOOSE OUT! "
I was back out in the garage. I knew what I had to do but first I dipped my hand in green paint. It felt like freedom. Right down the middle of the ice and the fire was a small green meadow of peace. And that silhouette; she found a face. And while fire and ice raged on either side of her she had her peace. She found her meadow. Just like I did.
The End
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