An artist and a soldier, a short story of fiction

I had always had trust issues, that is why I had my art, my paintings, they were my safe space, my escape from the world around. Until I met her. I had managed to evade people like her most of my life, the straight arrows never sat well with me, she was everything I didn't want in my life, but somehow she was the only thing I needed. She made me feel things that weren't there before, she made my art change all the way.

So I dug myself down in my paintings and fought it as hard as I could, but every time my mind managed to go back to that woman. It was great at first, when I didn't take it seriously, when I still didn't have that longing in my chest to go back for more. When she spent half of the time out of the country. When I still didn't realize I was a goner from the first time.

I realized far too late that her being away just made me want her more, that smile was my inspiration, she was my muse. And still, that little voice in me told me she was too good for me, and she was. My mind came up with ways to self destruct, I wasn't going to trust nobody, even if it meant loosing happiness to me.

I never told her about the art room full of paintings of her, I never told her that my mind was longing and calling, I never told her about all the insecurities, about my issues. I saw it in her eyes, as the years went by, she was trying, but I stayed silent, she was searching, but I found better and better ways to hide. My heart knows she loves me, but my mind doesn't believe.

That is why I chose to be an artist, I was never good with words, with people, even now I have two faces, the one I put in galleries for everybody to see and the other one that never sees daylight. You would think that all those paintings for my eyes only would gather dust, but I have moved them so many times that a hole in the canvas will come before a single piece of dust will settle.

My mind is self destructing, it tries to find new ways to show her that I am not good enough, I know I am hurting her, but I am too selfish to end it. I know she will, I have seen the light slowly fade from her eyes when we are together. My paintings turn from bright colors to gloomy grays. At this point it is a waiting game, I know she won't be there long anymore. I am scared, but she will never see that, instead there is a cold face for her to look at and careless attitude that drives that wedge wider.

I love you, but you will never know it, because I don't trust your love no matter the reassurance, I have my art and I will have memories of you, but you deserve better and the only reason you are still here is that I am too big of a coward to tell you to leave.

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The second part of him and her, a lonely story to show that there are always at least two sides of a story, we never really know what is happening in the others head, and we never know if the decisions we make are the right ones. I love writing a little bit of a sad story, it makes the heart long for something better, it makes me realize all that I have.

I hate reading sad stories from others, because my mind knows, they are the only ones who can really change how the story goes. I can change my stories at any time, because they are mine.

I hope you have a wonderful life, from today till that last day,
Linda