Art CriticChapter 10 Color
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My Favorite Color Is Blue free porn video
My name is Camille Cartwright and my favorite color is blue. The color blue has been associated with all types of descriptions from feeling down to feeling peaceful. For me, it just depends on what day it is and what I’m going through at the time. Blue is one of those colors that embody complexity – it can be depressed and hopeful simultaneously, like the sky. Its distance is limitless to those of us who wish to reach for it, but at times we feel as though the further we reach the further away it seems to be.
But today, as I talk to you, blue is the color of my pain. As I sit here at my computer desk, I play with the buttons on the keyboard of my PC trying to understand exactly what got me down today.
I have so many things on my mind, especially him. One of my best friends, Michael Davis is the one who’s on my mind something fierce today. No wonder I can’t write anything today. ‘I’m not ready for a relationship right now. I have always tried to make that clear to you when we first met, Camille. I’m so sorry. The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt your feelings. I am honored that you feel that way about me, but to be honest I can’t understand what you see in me,’ he told me the other day.
I let the sounds of the television linger around me, although I can’t make out what’s on the screen because I can’t pay attention to that right now. The first instinct – which is actually the wrong one to follow – tells me that it’s something about me. Maybe he doesn’t see me in a relationship sort of way.
I shared that thought with Michael the other day after he expressed himself to me and he just laughed a little and said, ‘No honey, there’s nothing wrong with you. If it weren’t for the situation I’m in right now I would want to be with you. I mean…you’re intelligent, you’re beautiful – inside and out – and you’re my friend. But since I’m about to be divorced and still angry and bitter over that whole thing, I’m just not ready for all of that again.’
I started to cry the same way I’ve been doing all day today. Michael hates to hear or see me cry. I think it causes him pain and he just doesn’t know what to say to me when I’m feeling down like that.
But as I think about it now, I realize it just isn’t the fact that he’s not ready to be in a relationship with me that makes me cry. It is the fact that he has so many female friends – which is quite all right – however, I wonder does he kiss any of them the same way he kiss me. Does he hug any of them as tightly as he hugs me? I even wonder some times if he says the same caring things to any of them as he says to me.
Meeting Michael turned out to be a life-changing experience for me since day one. He sent me an e-mail one day after visiting a site on the internet for writers and he saw my page on the site. He wrote that he thought I looked like a woman who attends the same church as him. Laughing all the while, I wrote back letting him know that I don’t even live in the same state as he shared with me in his e-mail. Yet, I extended myself as a friend, if he wanted to continue to correspond.
Well…all I can say now is that talking with him, seeing him, feeling him, and knowing him has been somewhat of a mixed blessing. Our good days and our bad days as friends via telephone and in person have been challenging and intense to say the least. As he goes through his pain and healing, he lashes out towards me.
I remember one night he called me his speech sounded somewhat slurred, I assumed he was just tired or something to that effect. He had read an e-mail I sent asking a personal question on a topic so deep I can’t even mention in this story. ‘I read your e-mail. Why did you ask me that, Camille?’ His breathing seemed get louder and deeper – not in a sexual way, but as if he was getting upset.
‘Well Michael, I just thought I’d ask because the last time we talked I…,’ he interrupted me yelling into the phone.
‘Shut up! Shut the fuck up! Shut up!’ He started to cry, which had its domino effect on me as I, too began to cry. He hadn’t spoken to me like that before and I couldn’t understand after all those deeply personal conversations we’ve had why my e-mail would cause such anger and rage.
We took great pride in our friendship up until that point to find out as much as we could about one another. Where did I go wrong in my questioning? I thought to myself. ‘All I’ve ever tried to do is be your friend, Michael,’ I managed to say despite the sobbing. The silence that hovered over the phone lines was deafening at that point.
Suddenly he responded, ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m just having a bad day. I just need to go to bed. I just need to go to bed. I had too much to drink.’
All I could do was cry. I couldn’t say anything else. So Michael finished our conversation when he realized my tears weren’t subsiding. ‘I want you to just hang up the phone, Camille, okay. I’m sorry. Please, just hang up the phone.’
After that night, we experienced more arguments and tear-filled conversations just because he was having a bad day – meaning he was going through the pain of where he was in his life at that point. And he’s still going through it now. I have to admit some days I don’t understand why the hell I keep talking to that man. When he yells at me and talks to me disrespectfully because of his own personal demons, I hate him.
Yet, our good days – which out number the bad ones – remind me of why I talk to him, why I care about him, and why I put up with his shit some times. And I know that the future is uncertain for both of us being together in a relationship – who the hell knows, right? Regardless of all that, I know we’ll always be friends, but everyday I wonder if that’ll ever be enough for me.
As I ponder the color blue in connection with my own personal demons and need for healing and my friendship with Michael, I realize I love him. And my various shades of blue will remain vivid in my heart and my mind because I know the odds are I will never be able to share that love with him.
Maddie
- 06.03.2021
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