21st January 2018
Portrait of a Friend
A wet streak of paint glistened as it trickled down the empty canvas. What was to become of it, however, was still a blurry haze in the young woman’s mind. She had picked up the brush intent to portray a friend. It had seemed an easy task until but a moment ago. The compulsive urge to depict every feature of his as truthfully as possible was now being distorted into wavering uncertainty. There was so much that she needed to share about Him. Still, her reluctance to ever acknowledge his existence in words, which had for years defined their relationship, was taking over, yet again. Indeed, she never spoke of him, not to her family, not to her friends. He was a weakness that had conquered much of her time, most of her thoughts, and was slowly claiming her soul.
Hardly anything ever separated them these days, but it didn’t use to be so. She first met him, briefly, as a child. His presence then was like a lonely shadow that never quite grabbed her full attention. With time, however, his visits frequented, albeit unbidden and unappreciated. Slowly but surely he became an integral part of her life, and she learnt to tolerate him - still harboring resentment deep in her heart, still craving to escape from his imposing clutches.
