Passion fuels emotion; the gone away emotion

Arya sighed. The frustration, the pain it had swallowed her alive. The break had caused her misery. She was determined to not let her mind wonder. Focus her negativity on something positive. The darkness that loomed over her was as a cloud. Covering up the sky before pouring over a city, destroying everything it lays eyes on. That’s how Arya felt, as if her pain would destroy everything, she set her mind on. He had walked away with all she had and all she was familiar with. He walked away with her light. Arya knew that she had just one option left, she needed to dream.

The drawers were at corner of the room. Brown, wooden drawers containing thousands of hopes, but now it stood there in the corner, courted by dust in the doom of the room, the corner. Arya dusted the drawers and the dust brought tears to her eyes. Was it pain of being away for too long or simply the dust? One might have guessed dust but Arya knew not to fool herself, she had been away for too long. Her vision was clouded by him and as she dusted the drawers, she dusted him away. Sighing, she pulled out the first shelf.

There it was, the happiness she sought. There it was her light. The tubes lying perfectly still in the shelf, full and bulky as if no one had used them for long. It was true, no one had used them for long. The second shelf held the brushes, whom were created with majestic mane of a stallion. They sat there with pride as Arya stroked them with her hands, embracing the memories they once shared. And as she opened the third shelf her heart stopped. The feeling was unexplainable. It was as if the damn holding back the raging waves was broken, Arya’s heart flooded with joy. There sitting in that last and forgotten shelf, was her first ever successful piece of art. She held it closely to her heart, her mother sitting gracefully in the piece of paper she held. This gave her joy. It was a call from above, for her to bring her thoughts alive. And for once Arya let her dreams guide her heart.

She assembled the supplies. The white canvas stood tall in front of her. Water in the cup, brush in her hand, paint in a pallet. The vibrant colors brightened up the room. The smile on Arya’s face even more vibrant. It was the happiest she had been, the happiest since he left. She felt as if the cloud had lifted, the sky was clear and a clear, beautiful rainbow could be seen. When she looked at the empty canvas her mind began to wonder with possibilities. She saw hope, happiness and love. The empty canvas gave her a chance of experiencing love without pain, to feel emotion without being judged and mostly to express her self without having to impress anyone.

Slowly she inhaled and exhaled, and dipped the brush in the cup of water. The wet brush swept through the paint and on to the canvas. Strokes of light pastel colors brushed against the canvas. The background music, whooshed in her ears and made her want to dance. She felt bouncy, as if art was calling for her. And she let herself get called. She let the music in her. It flew through her veins. And as the rhythm went faster, the brush on the canvas swept faster.

Arya felt as though she was in a musical. As the singer sang her heart out Arya let her creativity flow. The strokes of the brush were fast yet swift. The woman on the player sang of life, of beauty, and Arya painted as though she was trying to bring those words alive. She danced to the beat and painted the painting. The strokes of the brush too had a rhythm. With every note sung, Arya gave life to a creative piece of art.

The painting had passion. It had emotion. It was also a reflection on what Arya had missed when she had let gone of her craft, her passion. The painting spoke a thousand words that Arya was too afraid to speak. It held longingness, the need for love but also those dark memories that clouded over her for years. The canvas was her chance to escape reality. The path to closure. A chance to forget about the past and live in the future. And that’s what she did, at that moment Arya was living in the future. Nothing was stopping her. The canvas was now flooding with colors and though it didn’t have any meaning yet, it made Arya feel good.

When one’s emotion follows overwhelming grief, art is the answer. Art is the answer to all. And Arya was lost in her creativity. The canvas was showing potential now. The music in the background was the same, she had it on replay. She felt a connection with the singer. This was her first time singing after a huge career break. Arya felt as though the woman singing on the player and her, they shared the same pain. Different scenarios but somewhat familiar pain. Arya had found her childhood passion with art. She connected with each and every aspect of art. It was in her blood, and sometimes things that go deep down is hard to let go of. And surprising as that Arya found herself letting go of one while embracing another.

It was over. Finally. Here she was standing in front of the once empty canvas, now full of emotion. Standing strong in the canvas was him. The past she was trying to forget, staring right at her with the grim look on his face. Arya felt relived to get all of her emotions on the once white canvas. He had stalled her from her dream. And once she was willing to give up everything for him. But now it was different. Her soul had ached for the longingness of art. Being apart from her passion felt wrong and holding this brush in her, that felt right. Arya felt as though she wanted to thank him for stalling her, cause the time away from colors and painting had made her fierce and more passionate than she’s even been before.

Thus, she painted him and it felt good. Now it wasn’t haunting her in her heart. His demon was on the canvas along with all the bad memories. She was starting to feel gratitude and forgiveness. Now that he was there, she needn’t fear him and her thoughts on him. As once before, art had helped her not only escape but also realize. The woman on the player was singing about gratitude, and suddenly she felt peace.  

If one looked closer, they could see that the song and the story had a connection. Both passionate women held away from art, struggling without their craft. They shared a story, so similar. Arya felt a connection to her favorite singer, unlike before. They shared a love for craft and found their peace within it and Arya was grateful. It had been a long time since she had felt it, and she was grateful for that emotion. For the first time in a long time, she felt free.