Brian

Before I begin explaining this, I must say this picture, as much as it looks like another pointless mixture of scribbling and sketching, is one of the deepest and most personal things I've ever drawn. Sure, it doesn't seem like it. And it is also hard to guess that about 45% of the sheet of paper was soaked and wrinkled with tears before I even began coloring it. There is, however, a little bit of visual evidence: see the illogical brown spots all around the lower part of the picture, the ones that don't really go with anything? Okay, that's small unnecessary amounts of my blood. Indeed, regrettably, real blood doesn't remain red on paper for too long. So it doesn't look dramatic at all, and, besides, it was an accident, it's not like I cut myself deliberately or anything. But it's still a good way to sign the genuineness of the feelings put into a certain picture.

As for the feelings themselves... there's not much to explain, really, and I bet no one's interested. In fact, I'm sure many have wondered for ages why this otherwise reasonable person and relatively promising artist keeps drawing the same damn thing over and over again.

This picture is the answer.

And if the answer is still not clear enough, I'll insert an excerpt of a conversation between me and a friend of mine:

Me: And so, you see, in this video I last saw...
Yana: Dear God, don't tell me we are talking about *him* again. Honestly, I thought this was something that would pass with you...
Me: I can't help it. I'm a fan. And when I decide to stick to something, all hell can't make me let go.
Yana: Nonono. Fans are one thing. You're downright obsessed. It's worrying me.
Me: I'm not the typical crazy fan, Yana, I've never collected posters and magazines and interviews and everything related to the guy. I was never dying for an autograph, I don't want to sleep with him, etcetera.
Yana: Naturally, who would? (giggles) Seriously, you've got a point. Your attitude is different. It's like you actually care.
Me: I do. I think of... of this as an unusually good friend...
Yana: Hmm? A friend?
Me: More than that, actually. An ally. A brother. An image of someone you know way better than yourself. Something that runs in your blood. Something that's a part of my system, you know, a spirit I'm not complete without.
Yana: So, you're saying, this person makes you feel... complete?
Me: Yes. Brings out the best of me, as absurd as that sounds. Makes me feel like I am in a place where I belong. Makes me happy. So very, very, very happy. But also sad, sometimes, not because of the songs, you see, but something else, and this sadness is practically strong enough to disembowel me, but it's not a thing I'd trade for any other, and there's this deep, deep feeling of inner depth that is intense enough to make your heart explode with tension... and still nothing else makes you so acutely aware you're alive... Sorry, I got carried away.
Yana: I see... so, let's see, you care for a person this much, but you would never date him, for instance, regardless of the circumstances, even if you pretend you have a different life in a different universe?
Me: No. Never. Some people are like priceless paintings: you can't just leave your handprints all over them. It's best to admire them from a distance and leave them be.
Yana: O-kay... You know, Wera, I gotta be honest here, normally, if I heard anyone talking about someone else the way you speak right now, well, I'd probably conclude that they are -
Me: Stop it right there.
Yana: I mean, that you -
Me: Don't say anything else.
Yana: What?
Me: I know what you're about to say. Don't say it.
Yana: Er, fine... but why not, if you know what I'll say?
Me: Because speaking it out loud only makes it more real. Don't make it real. Don't make it true. It's better that way.

...

So, if you've read through all of this and are about to post a comment on this picture, and if you've guessed what my friend was about to say in the end - please, have some mercy, and don't say it. Keep the thought to yourself. Some things are better left unreal.