Phenomena

Vincent, you are a dead, dead man who doesn’t have anything. You boast you are a painter without realizing that you don’t have a twig, at least a twig to grow into the skies. You don’t have money, nor fame, nor do you have people to uphold your creations, and you must realize that you are a creeper, who admires himself, that he will flourish in the sky.

You can paint till your colors are over and can persist Theo, your brother for more colors. But you must understand that you have limits. Let this tragic drama end here, Vincent, without getting into more trouble. Let this end in nothingness because you don’t have anything left.

I looked up to the night, that lost lights. Crickets left the field, their music dead, and this is the end of Vincent Vangogh, the worst painter in the world. No one wants you, and even Theo will be hating you silently because you are just an evil that came out of the pandora box, something the world never wishes for. Let this end, end in nothingness.

I took my revolver and placed it on my chest.

The wheatfield stood idle without crows.

It will witness my death.

I closed my eyes.

Forgive me, to all I tormented, to all I was a burden, to all who loved me.

I pulled the trigger. Something pierced my chest. Slipping into the world of dark pain, I saw beyond the Universe, where darkness encircled around me. The darkness of eternal beauty.

A terrifying silence floated above the wheat field. Clouds burst into tears.

………………………………………..

Heaviness floated on my half-opened eyes.

I saw a world of clouds and snow. Am I dead?

Melting the clouds and snow, came a voice: I never thought he would do this. I always supported him, and never in my life, had told him anything that hurt him. Now I realize that he never understood me.

It was Theo. He may be talking to someone.

My eyelids closed against my blurred sight.

The world broke up, and a part of it fell on my head. I know I’m a burden, and why fool people, Theo? I always quarreled with him for colors. Was I erasing his colors? He never told me anything, even about his dreams or choices.

Crown of Thrones is painful, and no one ever wishes for it.

If some people live beautifully, it’s because some people live in agony. I travel ahead to regain what I erased from his life.

Time will pass, and it will bring back new colors.

……………………………………

Sun slipped into the ocean, leaving his dark blanket on the wheat fields.

Once again my heavy eyelids slowly unfolded. I saw Theo near me, but our lips remained closed. We heard the voice of pain that mumbled around our hearts.

Again, I lost the world of vision.

I painted millions of paintings, pouring my lifeblood. But nobody wants it. Because Vincent Vangogh is just another one out there. This world is different, and it calls for difference. But I believe I’m the most bizarre person in the world.

When I was a child, a beggar without limbs told me: “I’m the weirdest person I have ever seen, and you are the weirdest one you have ever seen.”

The happening of mistakes is a part of humanity.

Life is an only chance, Vincent, and missing it cannot gain you anything. It’s a loss that cannot be replaced, at any cost.

Crows and pigeons came to have wheat, to the lonely field. Sun came to greet them from his cloud castle.

……………………………………………..

That morning, I cut my left ear.

I couldn’t resist when Gaugin, my friend, told me something that flipped me out. I saw my hands going and cutting down my left ear. But I didn’t resist it. It was my choice, my liberty, and my body.

That was the day everyone marked me as mad.

Whenever I went to the bar or went for a walk through the street, no one dared to look at me, even if they, when I looked, they turned their eyes.

I didn’t kill anyone, nor did anything harmful to others. But people are still afraid of me.

But I loved being marked mad because nobody came to talk to me, which I thought myself as comfortable. I found ears in trees. They were better than People.

Trees are good listeners, while people are good speakers.

I never regretted what I did because that gave me a beautiful painting.

Madness drives us.

If this world were a painting, madness would be its colors.

A strong breeze rushed in. The wheat field shivered in coldness.

………………………………………

My paintings never sold, except one. But I won’t break down and will continue to paint.

I can’t think anymore.

I don’t want myself inside the swirl of my past.

I gasped. I strived to open my eyes. In that glimpse, I saw Theo holding my hands. Tears rolled down from his eyes. The whole world was disappearing before me. I think I will pay my life for the mistake I attempted.

We didn’t utter a single word.

Theo, forgive me for my sins. If there is a second life, believe me, I want a rebirth as your brother. But I won’t let you suffer like this…

Life is a tale. A tale of mystery, and hope, which sometimes ends in unexpected miseries.

I think it’s time to go. To go to the Earth without anything. That’s the end of everyone who resides in this world. Some go earlier, while some go later. Today I don’t have anyone to uphold my creations, but the centuries that precede will uphold my priceless creations, and I will become a legend…

The crows and pigeons left the field. The wheat field was dry and dead. Clouds burst into tears. The lonely field stood voiceless, waiting for the return of the legend…