Painting

There is a blank spot on my wall. I lent a painting to the cause of movie making. I woke up today and it hit me that the painting is the first thing I usually see when I wake up. I stare at it when I'm on the phone, or when I'm laying in bed feeling sorry for myself. In my mind it looks like Central Park, but no one else would ever agree with me. But I painted it so I'm right. It just takes a little imagination to see it. It's a bright spot on my wall. I miss it.

How fitting. The thing I look forward to every day is gone. It's like my painting broke up with me. Now all I have is the empty hook sticking out from the wall. No more Central Park.

Such is life. I don't even want to go in there and see where it used to be. This is why people don't talk. Or maybe just me. I don't want to see that empty spot inside myself where I used to be so vibrant. The hook hanging from the wall. I used a hook instead of tape because I thought it would be permanent. I committed to decorating myself with this painting, Knowing I could work around it. Knowing it would be staying there. But it didn't.

I don't want to look at that part of myself that used to be good. That hook is so unsightly. Guess I should have used tape. But I'd rather have the painting.