I had the urge to paint.
A while ago I bought this cheap paint pallet from my local dollar store. You know, the kind of paint that is like chalk in its dry form, and comes with a paintbrush like plastic wires.
You have to add water to it for the paint to be usable. And the paint brush does not absorb the paint, it only carries droplets of colour to your canvas.
Part of the reason I got it was that my sensibility advised me that it was less messy than other types of liquid paints. The other reason, was that nostalgia insisted.
This paint reminded me of my childhood, when I used to thoroughly enjoy painting. This paint would come attached with a colouring book.
When we were new to Canada, we received donations from our Church. Some of the donations included fun supplies and toys, like colouring books.
I remember this paint would come attached to a colouring book. I do not think I ever used the colouring book. Instead, I would cut up a cardboard box from an empty cereal box and use the reverse side of the cut up pieces to paint. Painting was bliss.
I probably could paint for hours. I lost that desire to paint a long time ago. I was discouraged from painting because I would make a mess. Plus, it was not really a productive way of spending my time; it was not a marketable skill, as I was advised. I lost my desire for painting.
So when I passed through the paint isle at Dollarama, I could not resist.
I knew one day, I may want to paint again.
I moved away from home (for school) and brought the unopened paint with me. The paint pallet had been sitting in my suitcase for a couple of weeks. Waiting for me to be inspired.
These last few days I have been going though quite a bit emotionally. My mind just felt blurred.
So, today, I decided I wanted to paint. I put on some chill music and just ran my paint brush through the page. It was my way of expressing how I felt in my mind: the blurriness, the lack of mental focus, the lack of clarity.
I probably only painted anywhere between fifteen to twenty minutes. I just started feel anxious and good not focus long enough to do it for much longer.
But, I am glad I did it. I just painted how I felt. I used only blue and white. It came out as an abstract piece. Actually, to call it abstract would be giving too much credibility to my artistic ability.
Probably too unimaginative to call it abstract art, but too thoughtful to be considered scribbles.
For the longest time, I never had a way to express to myself the way I feel, besides to cry or develop negative eating habits. Then I recently started writing.
Writing is great, but it felt so good to paint again.
I had the urge to paint. After that, I had the urge to write this.
How do you express yourself? #HowIExpress