Well, I have.
Vincent Van Gogh believed in eating yellow paint because it would get the happiness inside him.
He’s that yellow paint where I would find love and happiness in. Accepting all his flaws, but learning to love them as well. Showing him off to the world (he’s my wallpaper). Making an effort to meet him at pasir ris when he books out. Quarreling with him, over really pointless things. Studying all his facial details and expressions. Going on adventure together. Fondly recalling past memories, and excitedly waiting to experience the future together.
This is what they call love, isn’t it?