So I have been sitting here staring at this blank screen wondering what should I put on it. What words should I use to paint a vivid picture? These moments I fear the most.
The blank canvas stared back at him. So far it has thwarted his attempts to pull anything out of it. The white blurs of nothing piercing his vision and burning into his mind. Something was their inside that needed to come out and he wanted to put it there but some reason it would not let go. Deep inside it held onto his heart preventing him from throwing it out onto the white canvas. Another hour passes by as he tried to study it from a different angle. A glass of wine in one hand while a paintbrush in the other. A quick vision of blues filled his mind for a moment as inspiration struck. The glass forgotten and dropped onto the floor. The shattering of glass broke the moment as again he was left sitting there with nothing. The feeling of wine soaking into his socks did not help his concentration either. Reaching down to gets some of the glass his mind still focused on the blank white laughing void in front of him. Anger fills him quickly as he keep trying to think of something to put to paint. His hand slips on some wine and he stabs his palm with a piece of glass. The pain reaches his mind and he throws his hand out in anger. As if time slowed downs a small drop of blood flies out and lands on the canvas. Creating a single red dot in the middle of the white void. The laughing stops and suddenly he saw his masterpiece. Pulling out the piece of glass he dipped his brush into the blood. A few quick strokes and a picture started to emerge. A vision filled his mind. Then the blood stopped coming out of his hand. He had a start why did it have to stop now. Anger again fills him as he seeks a way to continue with his work. A quick thought and he grabs the shard of glass and uses it to open up another cut. More blood flowing and the painting resumes. After he gets halfway done the blood stops again. This time determined to make a big enough cut to finish the job he cuts a long and deep line into his arm. Working quickly without regard to himself he continues. Weakness fills his body but he keeps pushing himself. Then after some time the painting is finished. A design that shows both love and hate mixed together. Different shades of red as the blood that dried and has more applied took on a different shade. A few spots of white canvas peered back underneath the dried anger. He stood back for a moment to admire his work and he turned to go announce to the world his work of art. As he took a step he jabbed a piece of glass in his foot and fell backwards. Hitting his head on the chair he falls limply to the floor. The wine starting to mix with some more blood as the white canvas stared back laughing.