She was the first girl I’d ever loved. 

We would spend our nights in her little bedroom, folded together inside her single bed, and on one of those nights she told me that Vincent Van Gogh used to eat yellow paint. When I asked why, she said he did it because yellow is a colour associated with sunshine, and Van Gogh was so depressed that he thought maybe if he ate the yellow paint he could get some happiness inside him. 

I told her that was crazy, and she said that sometimes, when you want something badly enough, you’ll do anything for it. Van Gogh wasn’t really crazy, he was just a sad guy who wanted his insides to be as happy as his yellow paint. He knew it was dangerous but he just saw it as a chance to make things better. 

I told her, you are my yellow paint. 

She smiled at me, and in her eyes I could see her trying to understand the implications of what I had said.