Dear love,

Van Gogh was once known for drinking yellow paint.  Although he seemed rather crazy, his reasoning was simple.  Yellow was a happy color, and he needed happiness. Van Gogh believed his yellow paint would make him happy and feel complete.  He knew the paint was not made for filling his belly. He knew it was not socially acceptable and he knew it would not taste well as it ran down his throat, yet he drank it anyways.  His search for happiness was so strong that he was desperate to believe it would give him the end result for which he had been searching. We all have something in our life that we consider our yellow paint.  For me, you are my yellow paint.

While I have known you for just a short six months, it feels like a lifetime.  I am aware of your fears, habits, hopes, and dreams. I know what makes you happy and everything that has hurt you in the past.  I’ve wiped the tears from your eyes and let you dry mine. I’ve observed your every move and memorized each freckle that lies upon your skin.  You know things I am yet to share with anyone else and make me feel comfortable sharing it. At times I find it hard to imagine life without your presence because you give me pure joy, however you are not the one for me.  You are my yellow paint.

While I find myself giving my all for you, it’s a struggle for you to do the same.  You express what’s on your mind and listen to my thoughts, but you show little interest when the conversation is small.  You show me love and affection, but have given the same to others. You let me know when things bother you and attempt to communicate rather than fight, however you do not appreciate it when I do the same.  When we are together time passes and we don't notice. Things are perfect and we often discuss how we don't want the moment to end, however I'm not always invited into your everyday life. I should be leaving you but I cannot.  I cannot do this because you are my yellow paint.

You have done things that have hurt me and I’m sure I have done the same to you.  I have cried tears of sorrow at night because of you, but I have also cried tears of joy.  This is why I cannot leave. Yes, things are hard. They’re probably a little too hard for most to understand, however I will not leave. I will not leave because you are worth it in my eyes.  The love you bring to me fills my heart with more good than bad. You are my yellow paint.

Just like Van Gogh, you are my attempt to reach true happiness, and so far it's a success.  You may not be the healthiest relationship I have in my life. You may not be seen as a socially acceptable love and you may not feel the best at times, but I will keep you around anyways.  You give me something to look forward to each day when I wake up in the morning. I can count on you to be there, and you always are. You have taught me to love myself and shown me that others see me as a beautiful person.  You have taught me how to laugh again. I can now be the person I wanted to be because you have helped me accept change. You have given me happiness. You are my yellow paint.

                                                                                                                                  Love, Mayah