Paint the walls of your jail until you are free. Be the artist you are!
I was thrown into jail.
A jail that was dark and depressing. It was a jail made by my own people, people who I loved and people who said they loved me.
I stayed in that jail. I cried. Tried everything to fight the demons inside. Did everything not to think of my people who never understand me but want to protect me. They don't understand that I don't need protection. All I need is love and belief. But they don't believe in me, they believe in the version of me they have created in their minds that is born from their protectiveness and controlling nature.
I am captured.
I am stuck.
I can’t fight them back. How can they be blamed when they love me but the way of showing love is very very different may be toxic.
But when I was thrown into jail, during my capture, and when they locked the door, it was plain. Blank. Lifeless.
After days, I tried a new method of surviving. I found a sharp object on the floor. When I took that sharp object in my hand, my gaze dropped on my wrist, the question bubbling at the surface of my thoughts, “What if I end this life and suffering, at this moment. Everything will go away at once.”
But then a voice in me said, “No, you will only pass the pain to those who truly love you.”
(I asked this part of me where did you get this and it answered from the books that you have been reading.)
So lifting my gaze from my wrist, I looked at the walls and I could feel how lifeless they look.
So I started scratching and putting the dust into the wall where I felt like needed and now the walls are becoming more lively with all those designs I scratched and I am still scratching. And the brown color of the dust, the red color of my blood, the black color that I got from my darkness, and the white of the lifeless walls…. make the wall more colorful now. I hope nobody enters this jail.
I will draw and paint until I will find a way to be free.
For now, I let my art keep me alive.
It’s a way artists keep themselves alive.
