on spilled paint & heartache

Spilled paint. What do you do with it? It goes everywhere, touches everything that encounters it. Leaves a permanent mark.

Cover it up? Still there.

Scrape it? Still there.

You’ll always find it in the cracks and crevices.

Spilled paint. That’s what these emotions feel like like on the canvas of my heart. I tried to make something out of it and just ended up covered in it.

Then I tried to cover it up, get rid of it. Still there. I find traces of it everywhere and see the color staring back at me on some days more than others.

I’ve learned to enjoy the masterpiece; all of the spilled paint that created a canvas more cohesive and connected than I could have ever imagined.

Sure, I’ve tried to cover some of it up, or scrape some of it away. But that’s the point, isn’t it? So you can see how it all comes together?

And that’s the point of it, isn’t it? To find someone who can see what you see. To hold onto someone who sees the chips and scrapes, and spilled paint, and knows, feels, why they’re there in the first place.

Without having to say anything at all.

Isn’t that the point of it all?

🖤