My Life in Palette: I CAN PAINT MYSELF FLOWERS

There are always flowers for those who want to see them.

~ Henri Matisse

Another Valentine's Day came.

Another cheerful face walks under a fine, blue-skied romantic day while holding a bouquet overwhelmed with prolific blossoms cascading gracefully - a display of the very essence of a lover's affection and love for her. It was the perfect way to celebrate the love month, or so I thought.

Another soft murmur of romantically-filled atmosphere humming in the air with lovers having the old-cliched romantic candle-light dinner be it either at fancy restaurants or simply a romantic date by the seaside over simple yet scrumptious street food. Thus, another face that could not contain the kilig/giggle with sheer delight on her smile while having a glance of her prince, staring back at her. With my bitter mind shouting in discrete "magbuwag ra gihapon mo!" (You two will eventually break up!) 😅

Those flowers are growing gorgeously under the abundant sunlight surrounded by overwhelming attention. While there are those pathetic ones set aside in broken vases finding it hard to bloom in those dark corners - growing miserably in neglect.

And then there was me - the desolate bloom with withered petals that was bottled up in envy and insecurities. Shattered in pieces of endless questions for what's missing for me to have felt all those constant heartbreaks and endless rejections.

And then came art. Amidst the lonely garden of envy and self-pity that I used to walk every day, I saw a bloom of hope sprout. Sometimes it means pruning back the old growth to make room for the new, vigorous shoots of flowers that will bloom boldly. I picked up the paintbrush and covered all the desperate phases of my life with the most vibrant colors to care for myself more.

The distant memory of this chapter reminds me of the constant evolution of the long and winding rough road of my journey towards the most important destination I should have been back then - the greatest magic of self-love.

My life in palette - with painting, what used to be a dull and empty room has now brightens up with mesmerizing colors. It is the colorful journey that I got used to my hopeless-romantic soul embarked into that changed the grey-colored bitterness into brilliant hues of self-love. In art, I discovered that true love is not found - but rather it is painted. We are the artist of our own life's masterpieces. And we only got the chance to paint it once, so might as well pour out all the colors and paint it beautifully.

Yes, I used to think that Valentine’s Day is the day for romantic love among couples and the day to show love to everyone you care about. And it's often associated with romance, chocolates, bouquets, and all that matters. I was blinded by all those bitter thoughts that I forget to focus on the important thing that should have mattered the most - myself. Happiness is indeed a choice. And today, I am choosing myself first - letting it absorb all the happiness, not from anything or anybody, but from within me. As they say, ' you cannot give what you don't have , so therefore I should embrace myself with love and happiness first before sharing it with the people I care about.

Forever grateful to art and to God of course, for fueling my hands with this gift - yes I will forever be. It has taken me on colorful excursions towards devoting tranquil moments to myself. With every magical brush stroke and creativity is a one step closer to listening attentively to what my soul is saying. I used to be an empty canvas locked up in loneliness. And art has opened up my eyes to how much time I have wasted in vain to wait for someone to paint on it when inside me was the greatest artist to make it a masterpiece - no one but me.

And so another Valentine's Day came. And if I were to be asked if I still wish someone would bring me flowers?...

No, I can b̶u̶y̶ paint myself flowers!

And here's to more lovely flowers I am going to paint.

Cheers to more self-love!

Happy Valentine's Day everyone! ♥️