The Great Artist // NINE PERCENT Chen Linong

19

○ He's neither Van Gogh nor Monet ○
○ He just wants to collect more Barbie dolls ○

Pain, that was all she felt. Since her break up, pain was the only thing she felt, the only thing she had in her mind. It was harder than what she had expected moving on to be. She thought that she could just hate him and leave all the bad memories with him just like that but she was struggling with all that.

Having to be in a relationship for two years would be very painful when you suddenly break up. She said that she has lost interest in him, she has. But in her mind wasn't him, but it was the memories which are haunting her, messing up her head, creating a tornado in her mind.

The writer tried his best to make her forget him but he knew himself that it wasn't easy for he too had experience a heartbreak once. He knew that she had the capability to continue on with her life just like that, but him being her first was making it hard, especially when he gave her so much help when she was younger.

"I have nothing but regret in my mind right now, I'm starting to hate myself" the artist said as she buried her face in her hands. The writer stared blankly at her, absorbing every word that comes out of her mouth. "The regret is going to eat me alive one day and I might not be strong enough to piece myself back together again" she uttered pitifully.

Dealing with a broken heart is often taken for granted by most people but the writer knew all too well that heartbreak is something not to mess with. He knew that it's going to be a painful and disastrous ride of letting go and moving on, just like he did but he knew that she was stronger than she knew she is.

"What do you regret? What things had he done to you all those times you've been his lover?" he asked. "It isn't about him, it's about me" she said and looked up at the writer and stared at him with teary eyes. "I fell into his trap and believed that he was that artist going to complete me, the Jack to my Rose, the Clyde to my Bonnie" she said.

The writer couldn't believe what he just heard. It was HIM who cheated on her, it was HIM who betrayed her, it was HIM who hurt her, it was HIM who did everything wrong and here the artist was blaming herself for her regrets. The writer wouldn't have thought of doing that in a million years, not even for his past lover who also cheated on him, moreover used him for his mind.

"It's not your fault at all, artist. He was the one hurting you, cheating on you, broken you, how is anything your fault?" the writer asked. "I somehow feel like me believing him is my mistake. I should've been more... aware of what was going on around me and I would still be clueless if you hadn't told me that he could possibly be cheating on me to which he in fact is" she said.

"Hey, nothing is your fault okay? It isn't your fault that you didn't know of him going back to his old obsessions. It isn't your fault that he hurt you. None of this is your fault so stop blaming yourself for anything." the writer said. "But why?" she suddenly said after a short moment of pure silence.

"Why what?" he asked. "Why would he pick me as his companion? Why didn't he tell me? Why did he just... tell white lies to me? For all this time I thought that he would be the man I would love for the rest of my life and he just crushed that mindset of mine. Why did he have to do this to me?" the artist rambled on and on.

"I might not know you as much as Sophia, Jane, or Jocelyn do but I know this one thing for sure. If someone tells lies to you because they don't want you getting hurt, then they don't deserve you. Lies would only make it worse. And he lied to you, you said to yourself that he isn't worth your tears anymore. You aren't crying out, that's progress. But if he doesn't deserve your tears, then he won't deserve your attention either" he said.

The artist stared at him and realized how true his words were. She knew his story of breaking up, he told her once and she felt bad and awe for the writer. She felt sorry that he had to be used for his brains but at the same time, she was at awe of his courage and ability to move on from the terrible memories, to endure the pain of every scar.

"Tell me, Leo" she said. "What is it that you tell yourself everyday that made you move on from her?" the artist asked as she looked at him in the eye. "What I tell myself everyday? Well that, I can tell you simply" he said. The artist was looking forward to his words as she knew that he would word it the best way he could.

"I hated every inch of my being back when she broke up with me. I thought about what I could change to make her like me. But when I saw her getting dumped by her boyfriend and saw the tears on her face, I knew that she had felt what I felt. Then I told myself, she WANTED our break up to happen, so that she could have freedom with him. So I told myself, she doesn't deserve any single part of me, for she did not fight for our relationship, for our love" he said.

"Is it that simple really?" the artist asked. "It isn't simple actually. You just have to believe that he doesn't deserve you, that he just controls you around, that you're just wrapped around his finger, that you're just a puppet to him" the writer said. He saw something flick in her eyes and then he knew that she would be just fine. "You're right" the artist huffed.

"He's just collecting pretty perfect barbie dolls and I WAS one of them. Well, not anymore. From now on, I won't ever be controlled by his filthy hands anymore"