1/2/2018 – “Paint”
I painted my room once. I was 13 and wanted to be cool—at 24 I can admit that now. I stole my mom’s unused paint set, some forgotten cans from the clutter of the back porch, laid down sheets like the responsible kid I was. I had no real idea of what I was doing, just a pounding sensation insisting I do something with the conserved energy housed in my tiny body from all the times I refused to scream back. So I dipped pilfered paint brushes into forgotten canisters and threw the color against the sky blue wall until it forgot what shade it really was. I danced across my carpet whipping reds and greens and blues through the air, watching as the wall was dressed in splattered patterns.
When the paint dried and the pain remained I took some sharpies to that plaster and marked it with lyrics from all the emo songs I thought conveyed my angst. I think, even now, most of them had meaning. Except for the time I scribbled words about hating my mother after our throats had gone raw with screaming at each other. When my parents split up I had a lyric for it, made sure my walls wouldn’t forget it. When my grandma died I painted half a wall red to remember her. That red hung over my bed till I moved out, a picture of the fact that everything changed when she left. A signature at the end of my four-walled mural, I painted my hand black and slapped it on that sky-blue wall so hard it nearly cracked. The only way a teenager could leave an imprint.
Five months ago he repainted that room. There wasn’t a discussion, a final look or some pictures taken. My teenage years got swallowed whole by brushes covered in beige paint – just the right color to smother out the memories. I know erasing me wasn’t the point, but, bravo either way.
Author’s Note: I want to be honest and admit that I definitely edited this one a lot after my five minutes were up. It mattered a lot to me, so I wanted to make sure it was at least decent. I know it’s a little short and the end comes quickly. Maybe one day I will write more on this topic.