• myohsorandomthoughts 25w

    He wants to do everything for those he loves. Is it even pure love if he cannot help them when they need him the most? He definitely thinks not. So he'll take up his harness and try and climb that mountain of problem they got themselves stuck on. That important meeting that he needed to attend can do without him but first he wants to see how A's problem can be solved then he has B's C's and D's. He wonders if he should forgo sleep today. Maybe then he could finally find a solution to all their problem. "Leave them be! You are just a push over being used like that ! It's pathetic!"others tell him. But all that falls to deaf ears because in his heart he knows it's not them it's him.

    He doesn't , he cannot stop. To him they all look like fish out of water gasping for air, twisting violently wishing for help all the while suffocating. And isn't it just inhumane to watch such suffering and not feel a thing? All he does is pick them up and put them back in water. To him it's no big deal. People don't see he isn't used he is the one using. The happiness he feels and the sense of purpose ,they drive him crazy with peace. What would he be? His identity? How would they remember him? If he didn't help, if he didn't care for them. To him it's just his selfish need of being needed.

    He believes he is neither a pushover nor a saint like people usually paint him out to be. He is just a regular guy trying to find joys and colour in his life.He knows all the suffering in the world has given him a place to fit and that's where he have learnt to find colours he needs. Sometimes with these thoughts he makes himself feel quiet villainous and evil , when he finds himself being almost thankful for the suffering. Almost. The moment he thinks it he regrets it. That is when his "guilt-ridden- helps" starts and he doesn't stop it for long. And even in midst of the guilt trip he finds tiny colours to keep.

    Like the pink in the smile of rosy cheeked boy he gives food to. He notices his cheeks getting bigger and his smile almost reaching his ears. Brown in the twinkling eyes of the old man who always tells him stories about his youth. Black in the adopted one legged dog who is always on the front door waiting for him patiently. Blue,pink, purple and all sorts of colours in the inks of Handwritten letters he received from those kids of the shelters he volunteers in. Receiving such beautiful colours for such small deeds makes him happy. And even though he knows the world is big and has so much to it than he can see, he feels blessed for all that he has been given and loves his life as it is even with all it's flaws.

    Because each day he leaves home with a blank canvas and returns with beautiful painting, vividly coloured.


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    His precious colours