User blog:Kat2wind2archer/Black paint

"I'm sorry"

"There's nothing to be sorry for, shhh..."

"I'm so sorry!"

"Hush, it's okay, it's okay..."

"I'm sorry..."

"It's okay, shhhh..."

Mark always told me I was okay.

He wouldn't tell me to put my tears away.

He let me be sad, and I was thankful for that.

One night I was to sad.

That night I went outside, for a walk.

I didn't come back that night.

When I did, Mark started shouting.

About how worried he was, how scared.

I wasn't sad anymore, I was disappointed.

Disappointed in myself for making someone, that mattered a lot to me worry.

But Mark apologized, and comforted me.

That night he gave me black paint.

"Here"

"What... is this"

"What do you think it is?"

"A bucket... of paint"

"Yep."

"And?"

"This will be something I want to be helpful for you"

"Okay...."

"If you are ever sad, just paint your hands black"

"...Why?"

"You know- if they are black- they are the night. The night can't be sad"

"But it also can't be happy."

"Shuddup! You don't know crap. You'll feel better"

"What am I to do with you, Mark...."

"Nothing, just paint your hands."

I always paint my hands when I'm sad.

I have a paintbrush from Mark.

It's yellow, like he is.

He's happy, sunny, cheery.

You know.

Yellow.

I use the paintbrush to spread the black paint all over my hands.

Then my wrists.

Then my shoulders.

And I cry- my tears flow down onto my painted arms.

I can't see the tears from there.

The disappear.

Mark was right, it's good to not feel sadness for a while.

I'd usually stare into my black arms, it would comfort me.

I'd often think of Mark then.

I'd smile, because I'd know he was a good person, a very good person.

One of the last good people.

You know, after the first few times, I started being sad less, and less.

Mostly the paint helped, but also the thought of lack of paint.

I was scared, that if I get to sad, the darkness won't be able to contain my sadness- and burst open, with all my emotions.

I didn't really want that to happen.

You know, It was okay until some time.

Until something happened-

Then I started using a lot of black paint.

I started painting my chest black-

My face black-

My legs black.

I was usually covered in paint.

From head to toe.

Of course, you'd expect it to work.

But no.

The black paint covered all the openings my emotions used to flow out through-

Not taking my emotions into them, though.

Plugging it all up inside me.

I kept putting on more black paint.

To the point where I walked to the store in black from head to toe-

For ten more jars of black paint.

You know, It would have all been fine.

It would have.

But it wasn't.

Because Mark was my friend.

He always made me think about staying before getting on the bus to the clouds.

I always declined the ride when the bus driver asked me, because I knew I'd leave Mark behind, in this horrid world.

I didn't want him to think I didn't care.

Then, one day, he was tricked.

He told me he was heading to work-

So imagine this;

Mark, ever so happy, cheery, lovely,

Yellow,

Walked onto his train.

Now imagine;

The train driver was the same driver, who I always declined.

So, he took Mark away.

But before he did that, Mark told me not to give into the driver.

And I still didn't.

Still don't.

The driver comes by everyday, in his bus, asking if I'd like to see my friend.

I always decline- because Mark told me they wouldn't let me see him.

I trust Mark with his word.

So now, I'm sitting in the hallway.

My hallway.

It's painted black.

Black is a...

Interesting color.

Interesting, in the sense of not being interesting.

It's nothing.

It makes my emotions nothing.

So now, my whole house is painted black.

The paint drips from the ceiling.

Everything I wear is black.

And before I put anything on- I dab it again in black paint.

It keeps the sadness out- and the happiness inside.

The only thing that isn't black, is Mark's cap and blanket.

It's yellow.

It sits on my couch- yellow on black.

Stars in darkness.

the driver always tempts me, still.

Says he has more black paint.

Tells me he can take me to the world of darkness.

I decline.

Because I trust Mark.

If anyone asks me what I want- seeing as i'm a creep painted in black, I say;

"I only want Black Paint"