The Door's Open and I'm Bitter

     I believe I may have become bitter.  I have been through so many crazy experiences; from health issues to culture shock, emotional abuse with physical pain.  But I have always maintained an air of confidence and remained optimistic about the future.  These have not changed, per se.  It's more like I feel contaminated by a negative tinge.   Maybe I was born with optimism because I am hopeful for a happier future with less pain and drama.  The pain that I felt in the past was afflicted upon me by others.  Life is not fair.  I know that.  Medically speaking, a person is more susceptible to an infection and are more likely to present seriously if they have some predisposing disease or illness.  This is because they are already weak, giving organisms an easier way in.  I think that something similar is happening to me psychologically.  Something sad happened to me and while I learn to deal with it, I'm struck with feelings of the past because my soul is susceptible to such feelings right now.
    In the past I've been disappointed by a range of people; or a range of relations to be precise.  First it started with my family drama; which was devastating and shocking.  But it made me closer to the relatives with whom I started to live with.  But this only led to more drama; a drama that was continuous and will be never ending until the end of my term of dependence.  This only drew me closer to my friends.  I treated them like family.  But the girl I considered to be my sister brought out the worst in me when she tried to pimp me out in an attempt to juggle her many inconspicuous boyfriends.  This incident caused our separation; only her absence was soon filled by another.
     She was probably the worst and most dangerous entry into my life.  She saw me to be her doorway to gold.  I was her only wealthy asset.  But while she enjoyed using me like she would an ATM machine, a shadow of jealousy slowly engulfed her.  Once the jealousy took over, she couldn't act the friendly role anymore.  She turned against me and became addicted to the idea of ruining my life.  She managed to revolve her entire life around ways to torture me emotionally.  On January 2, 2011; Satan appeared in her eyes as her emotional abuse turned physical.  But January 3rd marked the end of her torture as the evidence of her violence was presented.
      There was a reason for the peak of jealousy which awoke a demon within her.  It was love.  I was in love and was being loved.  The idea of me being happy was so intolerable to her that she had to try and end it; end me.  Her attack against my life gave me the power of evidence.  I had her begging for forgiveness.  Though I know she is still fighting an addiction to evil, her attack against me gave me an upperhand and I finally had control over her abuse.
      I thought this final result was what prevented a traumatic response in me.  I was fairly calm.  The attack didn't affect me much at the time.  But it is affecting me now.  I know that it was he who blocked the response.  I had his shoulder and strength.  I felt protected and happy with him.  So I decided to hide behind the happy feelings and not feel the presented impact.  But he's gone now.  I'm left all alone without his love to hide behind.  He left me weak and vulnerable; sensitive to those rushing emotions.  He helped me obstruct them for months and his absence pushed aside the boulder; leaving a gaping hole for them to burst through.
    I'm bitter because I know my fault is my high expectations in my people.  I was in a fantasy, thinking that if I gave 110% love, I would receive 100% back.  The smartest way to live is to give however much you want to but not expect any in return.  It's a great thing to say and even believe.  It avoids disappointment and brings appreciation to the smallest joys and affections.  But it is almost humanly impossible after you weigh in what you deserve, because you deserve to have a few expectations.  And while I was working my way down from 100% expectations to 0, I skipped zero altogether only to land in the negative margin.
   His abandonment blew me out of proportion.  Now instead of hoping to expect nothing, I'm expecting the worst to happen.  I'm expecting the worst in others.  I'm constantly looking out for the hole in the ground.  And even while I'm looking, I'm just sure that I'll be blinded and pushed in.  I'm bitter because I'm expecting more pain.  I justify these expectations with the hope that it will sting less.  An opened door means less mass destruction getting in.

Blue Sunflower, Black Tulip, Red Tree....

 
      I want to create a new world on my canvas.  Nature, as it is, is already beautiful.  Still I hope to show a different side of the flower.  I want to show that the a tulip, so elegant, can be bolder.  The sunflower is cheerful, but I want to make her breathtaking.  Trees are forgotten.  In a land, one walks past them, barely glancing.  They stand magnificently, wise with age.  We walk right past them, directing our attention to the patch of violets.  So let me create a vibrant, eye-catching tree for my new world.  
     I believe that my world gets reflected onto my strokes of paint.  I have always loved painting, yet it didn't become my passion until I was being forced to forget my talent.  I was forced away from home; forced to abolish any future possibility of a career with art.  I was forced into a society that would never accept me nor try to understand.  I continue to struggle with my perception of this society along with their culture.  I believe that is what evoked me to realism and portraits.  It was my venture to perceive people exactly as they were.
     Time then presented me with disappointment after another; coupled with heartbreak and pain, inflicted upon me by friends, family, lover, and even strangers.  It is the evolution of my intuition that no one is truly as they seem, which has led me to the recognition that realism is overrated, at least for my world.  Now I strive to bring forth that true hidden character in anyone; and blend the core personality with the outer facade.  So let me show the dark side to the suave tulip; the brilliance behind an otherwise insignificant face.  I declare, 'no more' to these faces of us supposedly highly intelligent beings.  I will recreate this jumbled world of mine; mix the cultures into a flow, and redefine simple beings as fierce, beautiful ones.  
    As of now, my world is a collage; an overlapping puzzle rather than an intermixed flow of images.  Let me blend in the edges; swirl around the colors with a swivel of my brush, so that my road of patchwork moulds into a flowing river.  Teach me, Oh Blue Sunflower, Black Tulip, and Red Tree; the sanity behind this bizarre world of mine.