"What do you want?" he whispered as he then trailed hot kisses down your neck, across your jawline while pulling your body closer and breathing heavily once again he couldn't find the urge.
"Tell me........tell me so............... I can give it to...
Namjoon and I arrived at the museum a few minutes ago. I always had a passion for art. Even though I wasn't good at it, I still loved it. The way people can express what they feel with simple lines and colour was impressing.
Admiring art was one of my comfort zones. It makes me breathe with a different type of happiness.
I guess that runs through the family. I clearly remember that Namjoon loves art that's why he suggested this place.
It's a new art museum and I've been wanting to visit it for a while now. I guess I finally got the time.
We now entered the museum looking around at the entrance showcase that was explicable. People really put a lot of effort into their work. They had a purpose.
Everyone has a purpose. But what is my purpose? Why am I here? I'm just the girl who works for her best friend, who doesn't have a family expect her brother. The girl who can't even remember anything that happens four years ago in her life.
Snapping out of my hurtful thoughts, my mouth opened widely admiring the beautiful place. "Wowwwww!!!" You claimed louder than you actually thought. "Right! It's amazing," Namjoon replied.
The place was literally the entrance to a palace.
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"Let's start with the gallery section!" Joonie gleamed. You nodded your head as you followed behind him.
There were many different, beautiful pieces that were displayed. Each displayed the different styles, expression, technique. It was just amazing.
But what really catches your eyes was your favourite artist's paintings. That was Vincent Van Gogh. You loved his enthusiasm for the art field.
Background history, the man was basically a liver with his art which was basically amazing but people didn't seem to like them as they were all in the dark and grey tone.
I personally loved them. I mainly adored at that was dark. The darker the painting the more intense and emotional feeling it held. Plus my life is as dark a pitch so what could be a reason to why if like to right.
Anyways the man painted hundreds of paintings but never managed to sell them. He then moved to France and there he pursued his art. It was as if he had seen light. The brightness, the colours and scenery, the beauty, the different activities setting it inspired him. He then started to paint, with an explosion go colours. His painting then started to be sold. But it didn't last for long as the man died.
That was when his painting became more valuable. But it makes me think, he had a reason and he pursued that and decades after he was still remembered.
That I doubt my purpose. What is my purpose? What would I remember for? I get told that I'm beautiful, that I'm pretty but that is what they all see. But it's not who I am. It's what I feel, think and what I do makes me who I am. I shouldn't change who I am.
