The Screaming Hope
And real artists usually take all their emotions out of their chest to land them on something, something that contain these emotions forever...
(Gerard Way, 23 years old)
The 1080 days. I can feel them.
It has been 1080. Fucking. Days.
1080 days ago, I was experiencing freedom for the last time.
Today is a gorgeous day, I must admit. Birds are singing, the sun is bright and the colors of the vegetation are so vibrant that it makes me want to paint something.
I take the paintbrush, the paint tubes and the canvas Frank gave me. I begin to paint something that looks like a window: outside of the window everything has colors. The outside is also inspired by today’s vibrant vegetation: I paint this that way so I really show the beauty of freedom. I crave freedom. It is just so beautiful and so… Lost.
Then I paint the inside. Colorless of course. Everything is dead, motionless.
And, in between, I paint myself, standing on the windowsill, my posture says I want to escape: the half of my body which is in the inside is a colorless skeleton, and my foot is dragged into the floor by the skeleton arm of Frank; whereas the other half of my body is more alive than ever, and my hand is held by Shams’s: she is floating in the air, with a long wedding dress. She is in the outside. She looks at me with passion, and I look at her with hope.
I must say, this is the best artwork I’ve done so far. I wasn’t really paying attention, but I was crying during all the painting time. My t-shirt is wet.
I was going hide it when Frank walked in my room.
He saw the canvas.
That’s the last thing I remember.
The 1080 days. I can feel them.
It has been 1080. Fucking. Days.
1080 days ago, I was experiencing freedom for the last time.
Today is a gorgeous day, I must admit. Birds are singing, the sun is bright and the colors of the vegetation are so vibrant that it makes me want to paint something.
I take the paintbrush, the paint tubes and the canvas Frank gave me. I begin to paint something that looks like a window: outside of the window everything has colors. The outside is also inspired by today’s vibrant vegetation: I paint this that way so I really show the beauty of freedom. I crave freedom. It is just so beautiful and so… Lost.
Then I paint the inside. Colorless of course. Everything is dead, motionless.
And, in between, I paint myself, standing on the windowsill, my posture says I want to escape: the half of my body which is in the inside is a colorless skeleton, and my foot is dragged into the floor by the skeleton arm of Frank; whereas the other half of my body is more alive than ever, and my hand is held by Shams’s: she is floating in the air, with a long wedding dress. She is in the outside. She looks at me with passion, and I look at her with hope.
I must say, this is the best artwork I’ve done so far. I wasn’t really paying attention, but I was crying during all the painting time. My t-shirt is wet.
I was going hide it when Frank walked in my room.
He saw the canvas.
That’s the last thing I remember.
Notes
the last update for today! hope you liked it :3
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have a nice day <3
@nuclearcloud
I'm not fantabulous, silly... But awww thank you ;)
3/7/14