I once scribble somewhere after seeing a
quote about Vincent Van Gogh swallowing Yellow Paint because he thought it
would bring him happiness. He thought that swallowing something bright would
eventually make him feel brighter. But it poisoned him, the toxins flowing
through his blood. I like to think it was worth it to him because why do it
again and again if there is no reward, nothing positive to hold on to?
People say he was crazy, that it was a dumb idea. That the Yellow Paint was bad for him, destroying him from the inside, nothing else; that there was no way happiness could come from something so toxic.
Last year, all the trust and believes
that I hold broke in me; I wanted to leave this place so badly. I hated everything
about this country even with the number of memories and things I’ve built all
my life. I was a shell, a memory of myself. I hid myself in the dark empty room
maximizing the volume in my earphone; and my smile became a little brighter for
a while and I smiled and laughed and danced as if I had no care in the world.
The next day, I still felt like death.
My company designer came to me once,
being all emo about how disappointed she was with her newlywed husband not
taking up any responsibility about life and/or the marriage. I could hear the
words of disappointment from her lips finding her way out from her throat; I
had to look away. But when I open up the social media the following day and
continuously for the weeks that came, I saw her back in love for being the
woman of his backbone.
Whereas for me, I keep going hot and cold
to someone I never had feelings for. I tried to respond to his messages as soon
as I got them, but those words that pierce my heart each time just makes me
cursed so hard onto feelings; that I shouldn’t let someone waste their effort
onto one thing that wouldn’t have any happy endings. But when I couldn’t find myself
yet another excuse to ignore his dates and/or messages, my words just fail to
get them out of my throat that we’re never getting anywhere.
So you see, I think Vincent Van Gogh was
on to something. Sometimes the things that are most toxic can make us feel our
brightest, give us the happiness everyone craves.