breathe

ii.

I could almost count every bead of water that beat down on my back when I was a taking shower. It was one of the few things I did when my mind was caught up on a moment.

Feeling where every change in the air touched my skin. Feeling each crack and crevice in hand as I rubbed them together. It was an anxious act. And finally, painting.

Sometimes I imagine myself as the brush. Feeling every curve, bump, and grain on my canvas and having it under my control. Even in the cases that I don't know what I'm doing, my body already has a plan as to what is destined to be made.

Painting is my saving grace.

And it is just what I decided to do after today's incident. Though graffiti is more my speed, I enjoyed building upon the mural on my living room wall.

I was feeling yellow. A blindingly bright shade of yellow to be exact. It was the last color I would have seen had it not been for Nolan.

I would have never thought that the randomly wet and late guy would save me. I guess you really never know what god will throw your way.

Because of that, I decided to let Nolan take a shower and wash his clothes at my place.  My older brother, Naim, still had some clothes from when he last came back to town visit, so I laid it out for Nolan on my bed. It'll be a while until my brother will come back anyways.

I turned on my diffuser and started to mix my paints. My playlist played in the background as I got more into the groove. It was a mix of neo-soul, hip-hop, funk, and electronic, and jazz. I find those genres get my creative juices flowing.

I had just made a piece today in the park and here I am again working. Just for myself too. The best kind of work.

A couple minutes passed and  my arm started to spasm a bit causing my brush to fall out of my hand. I just finished so it was fine. Now all it has to do is dry, which shouldn't take too long.

I gave a good stretch and turned around to find the brush.

"Looking for this?" My eyes trailed up to find the one and only Nolan. There he was twirling my brush between his fingers. The outfit I laid out for him fit well. He sported a pair of gray nike sweatpants and a white tank. Not gonna lie, he looked really good.

He didn't notice my stare, but was fixed on what was in front of him instead. It had to be something on the wall. I got up from my floor and dusted off the paint flakes on my shirt. I looked at what it was that caught his attention. It was my new painting.

"It's absolutely absurd how good this is. You just painted this," he asked, leaning forward to get closer to it. I tugged him back so he wouldn't get too close, but instead he pulled me into his side.

I was kinda shocked by this which resulted in a slight gasp. His touch was very foreign. I haven't hugged anyone in years. I wriggled out of it quickly and his focus remained  locked on my work.

I'd never seen anyone so intrigued by my work.

Impressed? Yes.

Annoyed? Yes.

Confused? Probably.

But never really entranced. It kinda freaked me out. I was good, but I certainly wasn't that good. I decided I had enough of his stare.

"Hey could you please not do that?" I interjected stepping in front of the painting.

"Do what?" He looked me up and down as I only slightly leaned against the wall. My paints were acrylic so they would dry fast, but it was still fresh.