Van Gogh used to eat yellow paint because he thought it would bring him happiness but people thought that it was stupid because everybody knew that paint was toxic. But if someone is crazy enough to think that yellow paint is a cure, that yellow paint could wash them yellow internally, it means that they still have hope. Even the slightest bit of hope, there is still one. So he might not be the crazy one, ironically. Everyone has their yellow paint, the Y generation just substitutes it with drugs, cigarettes, and a crazy idea called love. Although there are chances that it will slowly kill you, there are also chances that it will make things better. And they grasp onto the remaining pieces of their shattered hope and intertwine their fingers to pray for a better tomorrow.
I want to be able to do that. To hope.
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