The simplicity of the blank canvas… So pure, so innocent, ready to be drawn on in beautiful hues. One thiusand ideas, yet one full painting will be drawn by the time the last spot of white is filled with a beautiful shade stroked onto the canvas with strong emotions of the artist. I remember a time when I was untouched by the cold colors of a dark world… A time of childhood fantasies filled with pastel pinks and bright blues. Letting vibrant greens touch the white canvas to give a perfect contrast between the dainty colors. The idea was to create a bright and beautiful canvas that radiated innocence. And yet, the world had other plans… As I imagined the beautiful portrait, other minds had ideas of what the image on my canvas should be. As I prepared my station, I turned to view my perfect work, only to see streaks of grey. As I stared closely, I could see words stained into the paper. Permanent. I knew even if I covered it, the words would always be there. I knew the canvas would never be perfect again, but I still had to salvage the portrait. A fire lit within me and I knew darker colors would cover the harsh words that filled the canvas. I decided to introduce dark, rich shades of red. I mixed colors to deepen the red, feeling a Fury building within me that I had never felt before. As I turned again tofill my easel, i turned back to see spots of black on my canvas. Upon closer inspection, I noticed burns on my canvas. Tainted. Someone abused my work and stained it with words that bruised me to the core. The deliberate need to tear my perfect image sent me back to the idea board. Dark shades of blue should cover the black stains. And if it doesn't, it will make it almost unrecognizable. So with a heavy heart, I painted dark shades of blue, letting my heavy heart drain onto the canvas. The beautifully bright hues that filled my canvas were now scarce. Dark colors filled the canvas over visibly stained words and burns. Beautiful pastel butterflies were now dark tear stained drops of paint covering the horrid words that bruised my heart and destroyed my mind. I lost sight of the bigger picture. Now I meticulously pick at every small imperfection to try to salvage the beauty that was once there. Gone. The innocent beauty was replaced with betrayal, lies, pain, and anguish. The art was imperfectly filled with words that tore a wound into my heart and drained my mind from the dainty thoughts that filled my soul with contentment. My mind was now filled with darkness and my soul was filled with despair. The happiness I once felt was now a bitter memory that seemed as though it was the light down an endless tunnel. So I let the dark colors drown my innocent pastels and drowned in the dark, cold colors in an effort to pull myself out of the endless pit of cruel, bone chilling darkness. Who knew that words could stain my soul?
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