Rebirthing an old painting

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I have these paintings I made a long time ago. They're put away in my studio, preferably somewhere I can't see them. They are the failures, the not-so-goods, the not-wanted ones. The sad ones, the left overs, the you could-be-better ones.
Mostly I let them lie for a while afore I go and finish them. As in, paining them to an end I mean. Not actually finish them of. Even though there are times I would want to, mind you. I would smack them with paint, scratch it's surface, slap en throw them and let them know how angry I am. But instead I rage and stamp on the floor and throw the painting in a corner.
You wouldn't say so, looking at all the friendly, lovely, soft, sweet colours I use.
Well, that's because I want to feel like that! I want to feel soft, sweet, lovely, friendly, happy and all that is good and bright and calm. So I paint it. As if I am all that already.

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You see I am ill, chronicly ill. Have been for a long time. And as yet, things are a bit rough. So this painting with all his bright orange and pinks irritated me. HUGE
I don't feel like that at all and I don't want to see it either.
So I took white and smeared it all over, to scratch it away again with a palette knife ;)
Then I took purple, dark, you know. But that was so afwfull I ended up mixing it with white also. And now, half way through I have this soft, sweet, happy, nice, lovely coloured painting.
I can't help it.
I keep ending up with these colours.
No matter how dark my mood, how sad I feel, I stil paint with these colours.
It must be some sort of inner longing for all that is beautifull.
A longing for love.
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