Colour me Rainbow

I am Rory. Watch me paint.

I want to do another one. Bigger. Better.

I looked at the canvas. This time, I was painting because I wanted to paint...not because I wanted to release the feelings I felt boiling inside me. This was different. This was somehting new to me. Interesting.

The canvas had a suspicious yellow tint to it. The blank cloth looked...wrong, like it wasn't supposed to be there. I picked up my paintbrush and stepped forward.

Nothing flowed from my pained mind to the to the patient brittles of my paintbrush. I was frustrated. I wanted something bigger...better...interesting. Yet I couldn't paint. I cannot call myself an artist.

I fell to the cold flat surface of the wooden stool and let out an exasperated sigh. I lifted the strands of hair obscuring my view of the room from my face.

The walls...they're...boring

The walls were plain and simple, untouched from the day I moved in. The depressing grey of the cement was, just like the canvas...wrong.

The walls. I'm going to paint them.

A smile formed at the corners of my mouth. It hadn't disappeared ten minutes later as I scanned the the empty room, the flapping dusty white sheets on the little furniture I had and my previous paintings carefully arranged one in front of the other in a small corner.

I began.

I did what I did before. Blindfold. The darkness which engulfed my sight disturbed me as I shuffled aorund the room with arms stretched out before me.

I found the paint cans.

I threw them. I heard the clatter and the clash of the tin paintcans and continued. Again. And again. And again.

The ceiling

It was quite low, I presumed. I clutched a fresh can of paint. Bending down, I flung the paint upwards and heard the loud, reassuring splat. I did this again. And again. And again.

I only had one can left.

I stood in the center of the room and grasped the can. I held it out before me. And I started spinning. Round and round and round. With every new spin, I heard the splat with every new turn I heard the squish under my feet. The smile returned, broader.

I removed the blindfold.

Bigger...Better...Interesting...Definitely

I was happy, ecstatic. I brought my legs to my chest and wrapped my arms around them in the exact spot where I had used that last drop of colour from the last amazing paintcan and admired my work. I watched the greens swim into the reds and yellows. The silvers dance through the blacks and blues. The purples tiptoe across the browns and oranges.

I live in a rainbow.

That was the first piece of artwork someone was willling to photograph and the first I was unwilling to accept.