There I was, in my rocket ship. I was the only one up here...in space. Everyone I knew and loved were back down on the planet I once called my home; Earth. My hair was tied back into a slick ponytail so it'd be easier to control in the no gravity zones. My clothes were insulated to keep the heat in. Space is cold.

I was alone.

In my own thoughts.

This space-craft was like my very own internal control center. Why do I compare a shuttle to the inner works of my mind? Because I stood here. In this hard piece of cold and clorless metal. Looking out through the glass into the galaxy. The colorful, vibrant, and beautiful universe.

My eyes began to gloss gazing at all the twinkling little stars. No amount of money could match the riches of the intergalactic sky.

God, all of it was marvelous. I could not believe I was gifted with the acceptance of the stars to even let me adore them from where I stood. The galaxy that I was letting my tears fall run down my face for was my own. Yes, my own. I created this masterpiece. I did. How could I have done this? With my imagination.

A little over a year ago I was where I am now. In this same old ship, alone. I drifted across my Earth's atmosphere. The smell of fresh paint was the themed aroma of my ship. Gallons and gallons of paint. Cases and cases of hand-made brushes. I did not know what to do with my paint. So I just let it sit there in my own residence. To myself. Nobody knew I had so many materials. Nobody knew I had so many colors. Nobody knew I had so many brushes. Not one soul, really. The most anyone could get was if they were lucky enough to catch a glimpse through my glass windows to see the paint inside. Of course the few people that saw my mysterious colors were intrigued, but nobody took the time to stop and come inside. They peered in, smiled, waved, pointed to the paint, but kept moving right along when I'd smile back.

I liked to watch where those people would go. I liked to watch them converse with others and interact with a few more. I never really joined their party though. It wasn't for me. I chose to kick it here in my small, humble abode. I was not a pursuer, I was the pursued. Maybe that's why only one person ever did so.

This person, waved. I waved back. I watched them leave though. I wasn't surprised to see them go, but I was surprised to hear them knock. What was this? Nobody's ever been interested before. I opened my door hesitantly.

"Hello?" 

"Hello."

They came inside, not that I asked them to. They walked around my control center, pressing all the buttons. They touched all of the panels and switches. I couldn't believe what I was witnessing. Another human was present in my life like no other. This one stayed. This one read through all of the books on my shelves. This one drank hot cocoa with me as we watched the sunset on our planet. This one sat down on my rug with me. This one talked to me. This one helped me. This one danced with me. This one sang to me. This one laughed with me.

This one stayed on my ship with me, everyday.

Their ship was long gone back to Earth. They had no need for it anymore because they stayed with me. I still felt the need to put up a barrier for when we slept. I wanted to let them into my room at night but I just wasn't ready to trust them quite yet. They continued to pursue. One night it was colder than usual. The night sang the evening lullaby to the sun to put her to rest. It was chilly in my ship. So we hugged. I rested my weight upon theirs. Their heat transferred to my chest as mine did the same.

It felt warm.

for once in my life my eyes met their eyes. I smiled. They smiled back at me.

but then they vanished from the embrace.

they jumped off my ship and plummeted into the dark.

My heart raced as I grabbed my paint and brushes. I dove into the night.

"Let me go."

"No."

I opened my arms in the cold, brisk feeling I had felt. With my limbs reaching out to the dark the colors soared from my brushes. The brushes I held so tightly. I twirled and spiraled everywhere it was pitch black. I brought color to this outer world. The hues and tones shot across the sky like comets and shooting stars. They looked up at me from below, watching me paint their colorless world into something magnificent. The paint glistened, reflected, and shined. There was so much darkness left though. It'd be nearly impossible to glorify the whole universe.

"You are beautiful."

"Help me."

I extended my arm toward theirs. Our skin touched one another's and our fingers met. Our hands came together as our lips did. I opened my eyes to see color come from them like never before. They had beauty like I did. Their eyes sparkled with mine. It was as if we didn't need to paint at all, our eyes glistened the Milky Way without with the use of brushes.

"I love you."

But, we did paint the whole entire galaxy together. Hours and hours would pass and we never found ourselves tired. We colored every dark spot a vibrant color. The galaxy we created as one was magnificent. It was a galaxy I wanted to live in forever. Our colors went as one so well. Harmony was what we lived and loved in. Peace and happiness was ours. The colors we shared with one another were breath taking. Sometimes we even made new colors, together.

But sometimes we'd overlap colors. Those colors would fight for the top layer. Sometimes we'd run out of paint and steal from the other. Sometimes we sabotaged each other's brushes. Sometimes we'd yell and scream at each other, push the other away. Sometimes we'd say things we didn't mean. Sometimes we'd erase one's masterpiece for our own. Sometimes we tried to destroy each other's work.

Throughout the whole thing I never lost hope our colors would be at peace again. Even though at times I watched them work from the ship alone, I still felt that warm feeling for them. I knew they were cold up there. No matter the issue, we would always give each other warmth once more.

Then came a day, a cold day. I hugged them to stay warm but they pushed me away. I smiled at them with a melancholy smile. They stared at me with dull eyes. I felt my body lose it's own warmth. My fingertips began to numb. It was from there that my whole entire body began to freeze over. My pale skin began to darken into a shade of blue. The shade of blue that came when one went without the other.

"Why are you leaving?"

"I am done painting with you."

"But the sky still has darkness that needs to be colored."

"My ship is back on Earth."

"Your ship is up here, with me!"

"Goodbye."

When they dove and I watched from above, they did not have any color. The moment they stepped out of that door they once walked through before to get to know me, their color was gone.

I blankly stared at the empty buckets that were left on my ship. I looked at all the old brushes we used to paint with to the core. I turned my head to the paint we were supposed to use together. They were the last colorless, breathing thing I saw.

They are what I see when I stare up at my galaxy. That's right, my galaxy. It's just me now. Drifting in the sea of color. Looking at all the stars and wondering if maybe I should go back to Earth too. It'd be a lot less lonely, and perhaps, I'd see them again. With maybe, color. The tears that were long gone and dried on my face I tried to rub away. I suppose I got carried away staring at my beautiful painting.

I smiled a happy smile, as my eyes gazed upon it once more. I then turned away from the glass that showed me my beauty. I picked up the last brush they had touched. There was still the smallest essence of heat left on the handle. It made my heart feel warm. I held it close to me and tucked it in my arms. I opened that same door they once did, and softly shut my eyes. They still sparkled even after all this time. Not once did they go blank. I took a hesitant step forward. It was at that moment did I feel myself falling. I dared not to open my eyes. Quite frankly I didn't want to know where I was going to go. There it was, that same frost that met my fingertips. The only thing I could feel past the numbing sensation was the warmth of the brush. I smiled with the last bit of strength I could, opening my mouth at a mere whisper to return the farewell.

Goodbye.