Streams of Comfort

For the first two weeks I will be posting a short story I wrote titled, “These Colors Can’t Satisfy Me” in two parts. I hope you are encouraged!

I look up at the wall and one thought encompasses my mind,
“These colors can’t satisfy me”.
I’ve taken to painting the wall these days,
And you can often find me covered in paint,
Pale blues and greens splattered over my feet,
With the brightest of reds in blotches on my hands,
As I have been shaping the colors into a picture.
A painting of sorts, if you can even call it that.
I know nothing of detail, texture and color,
Light and dark, of how to bring formless imaginations to life.
But these colors have come closer than anything else,
In expressing how I feel inside.
As I stare at the wall, I feel frustration rise in me,
From somewhere deep in the pit of my stomach.
I feel it claw its way up through my chest,
To settle as a knot in my throat.
And as it makes its home there,
I stare at its source,
The blend of bright red, pale blue and green on the wall,
That has become the dark night instead of the radiant morning I want.
I want to paint something beautiful,
Something hopeful and life giving,
But all I can produce is black nothingness,
No matter how often I try.
The red is depression itself,
The blue evokes uncontrollable anxiety,
And the green has become unattainable happiness.
With a frown, I look down at the splatters of green and blue on my feet,
They have begun to blend into one another.
Becoming partners that will accompany me together,
Wherever I go.
I lift my hands up to my face,
And examine the bright red on them.
It has seeped so deep into my skin,
That the red has seemed to replace my original color,
My everyday life, encased in its hue.
“It’s hopeless”, I whisper to myself,
“These colors will only produce the dark night for me.”
“You should give up”, whispers a cool breeze as it brushes against my face,
“Why continue to paint in vain”,
I look over to my left to see the window open that had previously been shut.
I wasn’t surprised as this breeze came often,
Pushing its way through the closed window,
And grazing my face with its cold tendrils.
And today I welcomed it,
I have become so tired and weary of color,
And wanted nothing more than to fade from this frustration,
Like these colors did into the dark night on the wall.
I contemplate the colors before me again,
And continue to sink deeper into dissatisfaction.
With all the expression I had done with them,
Painting my inner world on the wall, on a wide canvas full of hope.
They were still not enough,
I was still not enough.
And I began to shake and weep as my body responded to my hopeless thoughts.
I felt the breeze withdraw from my face, expand, and wrap itself around me,
As if to comfort me.
But my shaking only intensified at the coldness of its touch.
“You know how to free yourself”, it whispered in my ear,
In a volume so low I could barely hear,
A volume that blended into the soft hum of my thoughts.
And before my eyes, it seemed that the dark night on the wall,
Was beginning to reshape itself,
Morphing into something almost romantic,
Becoming a lover, or maybe even a friend, calling me to join them,
To obtain the peace that I have been looking for.
I began to fade a little,
And dark spots began to appear in my vision.
Then suddenly, like the quickness of a sharp intake of breath,
I felt the cool breeze retreat from my body.
The spots disappeared, and I found myself looking toward the window,
To what had caused the breeze to retreat.

End of Part 1

Please check in next week for part two!