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Ever-Persistent Inspiration |
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I scowled and rubbed my eraser over the page. It still wasn’t looking right, and I’d been working on this picture for hours! Why couldn’t the dang thing just work? I leaned back against the tree and frowned at the world. Maybe I wasn’t the best artist, but I couldn’t seem to do my subject even the least bit of justice.
Studying the picture, I tried to figure out what was wrong. It was his face that gazed back at me, there was no doubt. Anyone would be able to recognize him at a glance, and yet… It was missing something. His smile didn’t have that heart-stopping quality it did in real life. And I should know; my poor heart had experienced it many times. There was something else, though, and I just couldn’t put my finger on it.
I exhaled and watched my breath condense in the air in front of me. It was getting frustrating, not being able to draw him. Ever since—goodness, it’d been months now—I’d first seen him, he had been my most persistent inspiration. No matter what else I saw or drew, he had always been there in the forefront of my mind, begging to be drawn. Every smile, every glance, every mood provided fresh inspiration. And when I tried to give in and draw him, it never seemed to turn out right. I’d lost count of how many pages of my sketchbook were taken up by half-finished sketches of him.
…I was obsessed. I was acting like a teenage girl with her first crush. Okay, granted, I was a teenage girl, but he certainly wasn’t my first crush. He wasn’t even a crush. He was so much more. And I would be so mortified if he found out just how obsessed I was.
But I couldn’t help it, and I couldn’t describe it. I never felt so young, yet so mature as I did around him. Around him I was so insignificant, and so important at the same time. There was so much about him that I didn’t understand, that I couldn’t understand. Things I would never understand no matter how long I lived. And I wished I could understand. I wanted to be the person he could lean on, and rely on. The person he could go to anything with. But I couldn’t be. I was too young, too inexperienced. It was a wonder he even talked to me at all. But when he smiled at me, and my heart skipped a beat and went all fluttery, it was easy to believe we belonged together. I hoped and I prayed with all my heart he thought so to.
My eyes wandered back down the picture on my lap. Time to try again, I decided. I flipped to a clean page and picked up my pencil. Maybe, just maybe, I could capture him this time.
 Faith-Hoping-Love · Sun Mar 01, 2009 @ 07:56pm · 0 Comments |
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