A letter to Vincent Van Gogh- ( 2nd letter of series of letters)
Dear Vincent,
I can’t get an answer to how you are so I wouldn’t start with that. I’ll come straight to my thoughts. I anyway imagine you as a person who would have hated small talks. But the way you made stars shine, no one ever could. But see what they did to you vincent, locked you up in a painting by number box thinking anyone could ever imitate the intimate paintings you made. I always wonder, you had such bright colors of golden yellow and dandelion, but you were still sad. Everyone knew you struggled with your sanity. But with the colors you painted, who would have thought of the secrets you carried? But even when I understand your misery, I can’t even, ever imagine the kind of fight you fought for your lucidity. Do you know there are documentaries, movies, and songs made for you and you look beautiful in them but I feel sad for you, your paintings were barely ever framed. While you were in a world that sat under the stars drinking at the bars, no one saw you for who you are. But I am not going to lie, you make me scared as well. The way you chopped off your ear, I can’t even comprehend your misery. I have struggled with self-harm too, but that just wasn’t something that anyone would do. What made you? I have so many questions I wish to ask you, like did you see the sky differently? And did you see colors no one else could and still can’t? The way you painted “Cafe terrace at night”, the use of golden yellow, and the way you made the sky look as if you saw the stars differently as well. Your stars shined in a way I didn’t know they could. I would ask you what happened on that pretty shiny day on the farm, you took your life like your tragic soul just wouldn’t let you live. And when you brutally took your life, did every inch of hope left in you, abandoned you? I also wonder if you have ever loved someone the way you loved your palette of blue and grey? All of these thoughts and questions will go unanswered Vincent because you couldn’t sustain the sanity that was left in you. But I will confess, whenever I look up in the sky full of stars, I remember you. I don’t even know you. And when there’s a starless sky, I take a look at the “Starry Starry Night” painted by you with magic and I feel content and happy that I know you even when I don’t, not really. But I’ll forever wish that I could.
With love,
Anushtha.