I think people who are already close to him get jealous when someone like me came around. They made me take these really hard tests in order to receive God’s direct grace. I failed. Such irony that each small part of my life symbolizes my life as a whole. I didn’t like living with those holy men anyway. They smelled funny and looked down upon me.
Having my chance at being holy taken away I thought I might try to be close to God on my own because that’s what a lot of saints did. So I started preaching which turned into a nightmare. The poor have bigger problems to worry about than listening to a nut preach the word of God. Some listened though. That is the only time I was noticed by strangers but was it me they were noticing or simply just God’s word. I only wanted to show God to the world. The beauty of the nature he created must be captured when mad people do not notice it in its natural setting. So that is what I did for them.
This life is funny isn’t it? Let’s all laugh at the starving artist to lazy to do real work and make a living. He would rather suffer from hunger than work; at least he could spend his time begging instead of wasting it making ugly paintings. He is not even good. What made him choose this foolish life? He could have been anything of use to this world, but this swine of a man chose to waste his time; he is worthless. I wonder what makes him tick? I tick for them… because they call me Vincent.
I painted a glorious painting not long again. It was of the town, and it was night. There were a lot of stars in the sky. Some were bigger than others were. Some were spinning, no, all stars were spinning, and I remember it clearly. Everything else was spinning it was not me, but oh how beautiful it was. I spent a lot of time on that painting making sure each star had its place, and every home was there, with its occupants tucked in for the night. I enjoy thinking back on my work, especially when I am out on walks like this one I am on now. I wish I was painting right now but what good would it do.
My artwork was finally recognized a few days ago. There was an article about me in the newspaper. It was clever. Finally maybe people would start to notice my work. I wish this had come sooner though when I hadn’t made up my mind to leave. I could have stayed a little longer and maybe started profiting some. All well it’s their loss.
I remember I was walking on this same dirt path not to long ago. It was the other day when I painted my last picture in the field. Some crows were flying away and wouldn’t stay. I had to paint them fast. The wheat didn’t try to run away from me luckily. I captured a really nice scene. I hope some people like it, even though they probably won’t. Those crows didn’t wait for me why would they wait for other people. I miss those crows. They were so free and they were too ignorant to care if they were noticed or not. I wish I were more like them.
I guess this is the end of Vincent. Last time I tried this I didn’t do a very good job. Instead of leaving I was stuck here for a while longer, and it hurt. I am going to shoot myself in the heart to give my head a rest. I hardly noticed when I pulled the trigger, but to my surprise, many other people did. Even people who have not come to exist yet look back at me and are surprised and awed by me. I bring them hope and inspirations even though I am dead. It was never like that when I was alive. I don’t get it. I guess it was just bad timing.
