The Most Beautiful Things

the most beautiful things

My mind is dripping with paint. Colors casted all over the endless canvas of my mind. Mixing. Swirling. Blasted with color. How rare for a mind that was stripped of color not so long ago…one that was burdened by the blackest of blacks and the distance between those dark shades and white. There was only that. Nothing but that.

There are beautiful and intricate portraits of memories that unfold like streamers in my mind. I used to curse these endless reels of tape falling from the ceilings. They would play over and over in my mind again. Moments. Memories. Feelings. Laughter. My mind felt weighed down by their presence. I tried to control the uncontrollable, only to find that once a flutter of wind came by they would unravel time and time again.

This was the story of a man in pain. Regret. Agony. Fear.

A destructive force within himself controlled by the bitter manufacturing of life’s greatest demons and tests. A man who feared the real, the true, and to stand up for what deeply beckoned inside his heart and drove his ambitions. A man destroyed by a force burning him to death from a fierce cold that froze even glimmers of warmth within his heart.

I was the type of man who gripped on too tight to what existed, strangling whatever was to the point of breathlessness. My grip was severe, turning things to dust…allowing them to sift through my fingers. My hands callused from building walls and thwarting off intruders of love.

I was the type of man whose heavy hands were beaten to a pulp by his efforts to grasp onto things that needed to change, only to find that there is a inability to manipulate what must shift. The agony that was created from watching the inevitable changing of things only brought more fear, more darkness, more pain.

I was that type of man, once upon a time.

One day I decided to let go. Of everything. All that I feared, all that I adored. Everything in that moment, became much lighter. I started to believe that all would arrive in time, that love would run its course, lessons would show up at my doorstep and I could really begin to live.

I let the streamers, oh those beautiful tapestries of my mind unfold as they wished, floating around the expansive room of my thoughts with freedom and grace. I began to walk amongst their colors, appreciating their intricacies and depth. In turn, I granted myself the opportunity for tapping into what was divine within my soul. I began to speak to the heavens and instead of living in constant agony, I just lived…giving up existing for something far grander.

But amongst it all, I became the type of man that could be dripping with color and could watch everything go. I could hold people with open palms so they were free to fly. I could smile at things that once caused me pain. My hands, despite their strength, became gentle. I became softer. My words became deeper. My feelings became stronger. And with all of that, the intensity of the looks I gave others became engulfed with passion. I stopped looking at people…and looked into them.

I used to be the type of man who suffered endlessly.

Now, I’m the type of man who suffers, and with that, loves deeply.

Moving on with a full heart.

– Evan Sanders

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  • Michelle Brown
    June 4, 2015 at 4:38 pm

    Whoa! That is almost tangible. Really like how you use the color analogy. It creates a different layer of detail to your writing. I can relate.

  • cessymaniquis
    June 4, 2015 at 5:38 pm

    Reblogged this on cessymaniquis.

  • zachosburn
    June 5, 2015 at 2:07 pm

    Reblogged this on fourth wall breakdown.

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