I remember reading one time about Vincent Van Gogh eating yellow paint because he thought yellow was a bright colour and that it would make him happy. So he ate it in an effort to make himself happy. People think he was crazy but I beg to differ. If he was crazy then we are all crazy just sit back and think about it for a minute. Van Gogh ate paint, and it was toxic and poisonous. Then there are people who drink excessively, or smoke or are on drugs or self harm or starve themselves or binge and if you were to examine the situation with non-judgmental eyes you would see that those things are our yellow paint. We’re all searching for a way to ease the pain a little… to find happiness perhaps. Because I know as well as anyone that no one drinks for the taste of the alcohol. They drink to make themselves forget, to enter a state where all their problems seem worlds away and all the lines are blurred. At the end of they day, we’re all just looking for our yellow paint and no matter how much we deny it, we crave happiness.
– 01/07/2015 2:33 am
Excerpts from the book I’ll never write #109