Art imitates life. The simple pleasures of art in its truest form show the beauty and reality of life itself. The motion of the brush gives art a sense of living. Nature is seen in true beauty, life goes on, and feelings are felt. But not all art is fulfilling to the soul. For some the experience of art is hacking away at the torture lives they live, reminding them that they are outsiders. The imagination dies of the age of television and true art is unseen. To really appreciate the arts, one must see the full life within them, moving to the stroke of the brush. At least, that’s what I thought.

The drawings do not become true until the artist creates the work. My works delve into my torture soul of being alone. I would draw the women on the street as they live their lives unaware of the art I create. Life is cruel. Many times, I wish for my drawings to come and comfort me, but sadly, they do not. I must have one, as beautiful as my soul. I draw and I sketch to create the perfect woman companion. It will have fine, silky-black hair, sapphire eyes, and a face only one such as me can draw. She would be a living masterpiece. At least, that’s what I thought.

She was perfect. The girl I wish to be free, to love me as I love her. To dream of her is not enough, she must live. I have to have her. Its wishful thinking at best, I am not a man to fulfill this endeavor. Why must I be cursed to this mortal life? For my love, I do anything for her to be with me. I grabbed a sheet of paper; I write “I would give my soul to bring her to life.” Then a chilled rolled, like a terrible storm approaching. The winds howled into my studio, tossing me and my work around like a rag doll. The storm faded, and before I recovered, there she was. Her raven-hair shone bouncing the light reveal her radiance. My dream fulfilled, I would be happy. At least, that’s what I thought.

I approached her to see her as she was swooning into her blue starlit eyes admiring my work of art. At last, she was mine. I embraced my work, laughing and crying at the same time. The only word coming to mind was “wonderful.” My work, my dream, my life, fulfilled. However I felt a cold sensation, one like before. I felt as if my emotions had left me. My joy gone, what was happening? I turn away from her to see if the chill as returned through the window. Turn back and my soul, felt empty. At least, this I know.

I wanted to feel love for my girl has come, but there was no happiness. No joy, no excitement. I had truly lost it all. I wanted to feel the love, but it was gone. I begged to someone to give back my feelings, but there was nothing. My life has truly ended. I prayed, I begged, and I pleaded to return my heart, my life, my soul. My creation approached me and whispered, “You don’t need your soul, I will be everything you ever need.”

As I sat there, my creation embracing me, I knew, we would be happy together. At least, that’s what I thought.