Born out of nowhere, from someone’s imagination, here I now stand, hung on a wall in an soulless house, to rot in for eternity.
I never knew my creator; I was sold too early, before I was even aware of my own existence. Now my only purpose is “show and tell”. It is true, my owner does like to stare into my being, searching for my soul, for my meaning.
He says I look like a painting Da Vinci would paint, but I do not remember that person. I remember nothing other than what happened in these four walls, many things which my master would not like people to know.
I was always a loyal servant, appeasing to the eye as is my only purpose. I never lied, nor did I have the chance to. I never disobeyed. I did what I was supposed to – be pretty. Many have tried to understand me, but a few have succeeded to find out my core, my essence and the reason why I was created… the true reason behind my creation.
On those days I wish they had tore me to pieces, it would be an easier, less painful death. On other days I wish they never found out, so my purpose lives on as do I.
Misunderstood, all alone in the world, I dream what it is like to be out there. What things have they been keeping from me? What excitements am I missing out on? I yearn to have new experiences.
But when my master starts reading the paper out loud, from his dark leather chair in the opposite corner of mine, I regret the day I was brought into this world. I am a kind soul, even if I may not look like it. Sometimes the monstrosities I hear keep me up at night.
I have heard my master speaking with his new mistress. She wants to redecorate. I am part of their belonging in this house, I am to be thrown out, replaced, given away, like I was nothing. My absence will fill with another.
Why would they replace my beauty with someone else’s? Even if I refuse to be washed out, what good does it do me? I am a painting; I should not be caring for such trivialities.