The Everlasting Love Palette - No. 21, 35 & 61

This one is for the kind of love we all secretly believe in… even when we act like we don’t.

You know the one.

The big one.
The forever one.
The “we’ll grow old and still laugh at the same stupid things” one.
The one we pretend we’re too smart for now, because we’ve lived a little, learned a little, and don’t want to look like we still believe in magic.

And yet.

Somewhere in the back of our nervous system, behind the bills and the practical decisions and the “I’m fine” attitude… there it is.
The longing.

Because even when we say we don’t need anyone, we still want someone.
Not in a desperate way.
In a “please let it be easy for once” way.

The kind of love where you don’t have to decode silence.
Where you don’t have to wonder if you’re asking for too much.
Where you don’t have to shrink your feelings down to something more acceptable.

No. 21 is the grounded one.
The “I’m not going anywhere” kind of love.
The kind that makes you stop bracing.
It’s loyalty. It’s steadiness. It’s someone who shows up without making you earn it with perfect behavior.
Basically the opposite of your nervous system’s usual dating experience.

No. 35 is the soft part.
The part we try to act cool about, but absolutely cannot.
It’s tenderness.
Handwritten notes.
Long hugs.
That specific feeling of being looked at like you are something precious, even when you’re wearing old sweatpants and your brain is doing that thing where it panics about everything.

It’s the love that makes you feel safe enough to be your full self.
Not your “best version.”
Your real version.

And No. 61 is the light.
That golden glow that makes everything look like a film for a moment.
The beginning energy where someone’s name in your phone feels like a small miracle.
Where even boring Tuesdays feel a bit exciting, because they might include them.
It’s the part where you start imagining things and immediately tell yourself to calm down… while still imagining them.

Together these three colors are basically a tribute to one very inconvenient truth:

We still want that love.

Even if we’ve been disappointed.
Even if we’ve become rational.
Even if we’ve trained ourselves to be low maintenance and emotionally independent and all that responsible adult stuff.

Because longing doesn’t disappear.
It just becomes quieter.

And painting is one of the places where it can still exist without being judged.

You can be realistic in your real life…
And still let your brush whisper:
“Yes, I still want the forever one. Obviously.”