Only One Square of Mondrian Please

Remember the purple lipstick and the white pearls? The vintage frocks that could be my identity. They were a lie. Or the thought of an infinite artist in the sky who could be my saviour, that was a lie too. The art-piece with the four seasonal angels and the giant unified circle of wholeness and unity. That became a lie as well. And the fragmented ideas of a JK Rowling-type-story suddenly turned ugly and boring in my mind. Little flowers were little peasants so beneath the king, and I was a fool, some middle class worker trying to rise above the class of a king. But the king I thought to be king was nowhere to be found, ever, and eventually I was just throwing my damn fist at the air. Because I wanted Knights in Shining Armour to be more than just knights, when really they could never even live up to being a knight if they tried. Friends became distant strangers living in other dimensions, and the word 'lonely' suddenly didn't exist because it became everything. And I tried to fill the vast expanses of my unending-empty with the continuous-lonely, because to forever die after this temporary life is more comfortable than an infinity in which anything could happen next. Pieces of beautiful have become so dull and ugly because I was always looking at it from above rather than from bottom-to-top-below as a grateful peasant or a grateful flower. And now I cry, cry at all the what-could-have-beens and the missed opportunities to love something, anything. 

...

One square of Mondrian will always be one square in the entire piece, nothing less and nothing more.

Author's Note

The picture is a painting by the great Piet Mondrian.

Reviews

[Bear]

You are a story teller and you have a nice way of telling them, I hope you keep creating and sharing them.

[Nia Lisa]

Thankyou! I'll try :) I guess I gotta keep exploring