An Investigation Into Letting Go


I stumbled upon an open door. Curiously I walked in.

A concrete room- four walls, no windows.

In the center stood an easel upholding a blank canvas that seemed to call my name.

As I approached the canvas, whispers turned to songs. My mind began to swirl. I began to dance to the rhythm of his voice.

His song grew so loud, I could feel it in my bones. I couldn’t help but dance.

Next to him stood a desk, and upon it, a collection of colors that brightened my world.

They were unlike any colors I had ever seen- so much more alive than a simple rainbow. I could feel them. The intensity, the passion, the mystery- I could feel the colors of his soul.

My hands compulsively reached out to pick up the delicate paintbrush that lay next to him- the connection between two souls, the bridge that made us one, and just like that, we became a work of art.

I dabbled in his colors, delicately stroking the canvas to the rhythm of his song. He was always singing. I was always dancing.

I’m not really sure what I was painting, I just know it felt right.

I painted the canvas front and back, around the sides, brightly and passionately, but blindly.

I got lost in the art that was our love.

I filled all the blank spaces until one day, he stopped singing. The rhythm was lost, but I still wanted to dance.

The paintbrush was slipping from my hands, but I tried so desperately to hold on.

I took a look around at the concrete walls, and I almost began to paint them. It didn’t have to end. It wasn’t supposed to end.

Here in this concrete room- four walls, no windows. Here is where I belong

But as I tried to paint over places where color had already filled in, the piece began to turn dark and muggy. It wasn’t so beautiful anymore.

I began to ruin it. I began to ruin us.

The truth is, we were classic. We were timeless. Untouchable.

I was just afraid of what lied outside these impenetrable four walls because I couldn’t see beyond them.

I was so lost in his voice, in the rhythm, in the art, in our love, that I couldn’t see beyond it. I couldn’t see beyond us.

He wasn’t calling my name anymore. He wasn’t singing. I wasn’t dancing. I wasn’t painting. The colors were different now. Everything was different now.

I reluctantly set the paintbrush down.

I lifted our bright and passionate canvas off of the easel and walked slowly towards the barren wall before me.

Right there, in the center, I hung it up.

I stepped back and took a look at the beautiful mess we made together.

Classic, timeless, and untouchable.

It was pure art. Our love was a finished masterpiece. I could admire it, but I could no longer create it.

I walked away, and closed the door behind me.

I walked forward stumbled upon an open door. Curiously, I walked in.

A concrete room- four walls, no windows.