To paint or not to paint? That is never a question.

It had been bad enough painting the first piece of art hanging outside, I wasn't an artist and the mere thought of splashing paint against a blank canvas gave me a headache. A release. This was suppose to be a release of some bent up emotions Lacava thought we had. I didn't need release. I was just fine stumbling through life here, dreaming of the day I could go home. Home, what did it feel like to be home? I couldn't be sure I knew what the feeling was in the first place; but there was a lack of something very real in my life. A missing piece that vanished the moment I stepped foot in the facility. I wish I could figure out what it was that was missing. Turning towards the window I watched a tiny bird pick at its feathers, he had made himself comfortable on the bars and had begun to clean himself.

I wish I could fly.

I would fly far away from this place. Leave everyone and everything behind me to be forgotten. Alas, I could not fly and I doubted very much that I would be sprouting wings any time soon. Looking around my new room I felt a sudden emptiness, I missed my old room already. I had only been moved yesterday from it, but this room seemed colder somehow. I had never bothered decorating my old room, but the softness of the white walls had appealed to me. This room had gray walls, a dull lifeless color that made it feel more like a prison than a hospital. That's how I'd come to view the facility, for even with all its luxuries and enjoyments the people here were very sick. I was very sick. Pressing my ear against one of the walls I closed my eyes and listened; I tried to hear Nurse Bom on the other side, the click clacking of her keyboard soothing my soul. She would no longer talk to me. Barely bothered to look my way, and during sessions she would stand as far from me as possible, as if I was ridden with some sort of plague. Maybe I was. I mean, every person I'd tried to get to know better had ended up getting in trouble because of me. I had nearly burned every person here in one way or another, the lone survivor being Youngbae whom had been smart enough to remain neutral about his feelings towards me. The game was over, who wanted to play when the prize had already been passed around. I felt my stomach growing sick at the thought.

What am I doing?

I knew better than this. I knew what it meant to be the woman that passed herself around, seeking attention from the men in her life. My mom had done her fair share of moving, from one man to the next, searching for, what I could only assume to be, love. I took a long hard look inside, counting my mistakes, trying to figure out when I had fallen so far from solid ground. When I got here? When I allowed this stupid bet to happen? When Jiyong and I made love? No, not love. , we had . None of them seemed right, the problem went deeper than that and I realized that maybe Jiyong had been right. That I was more like Seungri than I first realized. We didn't want to be forgotten, didn't want to look towards the future because it scared us. The thought of being responsible for ourselves with no one left to blame was terrifying. Perhaps, that's why we took comfort in each other. Enjoyed our daily bickering because the source of our illness came from the same dark place. I felt tears well up in my eyes at the sadness in my truth, but instead of trying to hide them I let them come. Let each warm droplet slide down my cool cheeks to soak my folded legs below. Mom. Her tired face struck my minds eye with a jolt. She was always so tired, always worked hard and tried to remain strong. I could see the breaks in her back and the gashes in her wounded heart. She jumped from lover to lover not because she wanted them to save her, she was too strong to need help, but instead she longed for someone to help her carry the weight of the world. The years had lay heavy upon her, and I knew that I had only added to that weight. We couldn't afford a therapist, nor the damages I'd caused. All she had wanted was for my life to be so much better than the life she had lead; and how did I repay her? By destroying every opportunity with my fast flying mouth and sour attitude.

"I'm sorry mom," I sobbed. For the first time I cried for someone else, cared for someone's pain over my own, and saw the hardships they suffered. I never knew that I had gone blind until I could suddenly see again. The people in my life, the ones that mattered the most to me had never stood a chance at being happy. Not because their fortunes were poor, but because I would never allow them to be. Happy meant freedom and freedom meant I was to be left behind. It was my fear that had ruined everything in this house, my lack of control over what I perceived to be meaningful and long lasting. I had become a hindrance because if they grew better I would be left. They would leave me. I began to understand the darkness I'd drawn, began to come to terms that I had a problem. I positioned the canvas over my knees and looked at the whiteness of it, I felt like this canvas. Restricted to a miserable square void of color and life. Running my fingers through my hair I tried to think about the assignment, what was Dr. Lacava trying to get from me? What was he trying to make me realize about myself that would help me? I thought for a long time, rolling the paint brush between my fingers until I decided to just pick a color and go for it. Dipping the brushes thick tip into the brilliant orange paint jar I, lightly, began drawing a flower in the corner. I had nearly finished it when a knock startled me causing my brush to make a gruesome orange line off the canvas and onto the wall. 

"Dinner will be in an hour," Nurse Bom sounded like a robot.

Setting the brush down I tried to get the color off the wall, using the ends of my ratty shirt I smeared it into the wall more, cursing as I took a step back trying to think. The color was so rich and vibrant against the wall; a bold slap to a dull space, it reminded me of Jiyong. He had come into my lackluster life like a ball of fire that night we first met, he was so intense and bold that he brought excitement with him. 

That's it!

Gathering all the paints I had available to me I moved to the cleanest, clearest wall I had in the room. I felt the surge of creativity fill my being and knew just what it was I would release. Standing against the wall I outlined my body shape the best I could, from there it was freedom. First, from the right side of my bone out I painted with excitement in orange. Jiyong had been exciting and forced me out of my comfort zone, and gave me my first true taste of desire. He had reminded me that it was okay to want for things, no one could tell you not too. Next was red, taking my brush I splattered in wild patterns upward from the left side of my bone, carelessly throwing the pai