READ ME

This is the surreal part of my life. Halloween Night, somewhere around 3 AM.

"I want to suck you," he said, "suck you until you´re unconscious."

I kept repeating in my head, "give him what he wants, just give in." Daniel’s eyes were empty and his presence was menacing. It was no doubt he had been being doing speed again and that I wouldn´t enjoy this moment at all. I wasn´t willing to fuck anyone who was under the influence because they would fail to remember the next day how great it felt.

"Why are you doing this to me, to yourself, to everyone else around you?" I kept thinking deeply, "you can suck me dry and mistreat me, to that I´m used to but not to see others commit self abuse right in front of my eyes.”

He grabbed my waist as hard as he could and unzipped me with such ease. I did my best to act as if didn´t care but this moment had all the signs of a crime, a crime against my feelings.

"You´re so fucking beautiful..." he said gasping as he placed his mouth on my dick.

"Don´t throw me away just yet, let me stay awhile longer..." he kept saying until he fell silent for no apparent reason. I catched my breath as I thought I would come at that moment.

He layed with half dead eyes and I stared for a minute or two, "This seems to be a fair way to die, amongst beauty, a fine way it is.”

Daniel had written words like "fuck me, kill me" all over the place. He was already dead, he just wanted to hear it from someone who actually cared.

He became attracted to my physique and at the end to my soul but as soon as he saw it he knew the Devil was staring back at him, not some beautiful angel so it´s doubtful whether he was going to burn in Hell or get lost in oblivion among my other lovers.

I was shutting the door on a failed experiment when I realized that there was more I could rescue from the ashes of failed relationships and that was none other than Edith.

She was my most loyal follower and she crept into my bed because I set no boundaries for her...except that she was different, she was my best friend. And so now that I was in a moment of frailty she came back to me.

When Daniel’s family found out they wanted to remain as discreet as possible because they weren’t aware of his alternative lifestyle; they always portrayed him as their pride and joy. Mr. Hyde on the other hand was one of the most luscious pieces of ass I saw in Manhattan.

It had been raining very often and still had a pile of work to be finished back at my place so I went down to offer my condolences. It was the right thing to do.

The cause of death was an evident overdose after having the local authorities asked me a shit load of questions until I was free to go, but I felt somehow stigmatized by this tragic event. I argumented I was a close friend that knew him well from the modeling industry and such. His parents acted indifferently and thanked me for being there but that was just it.

I didn’t just break a relationship, I broke up the family.

That November morning reminded me of my school days that made me feel so drowsy.I was listening eagerly to the priest however I knew well that speech gave me no comfort, he said:

“The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.”

I shook hands only with his younger sister, Samantha Hyde. She was blonde, cropped hair, had a sort of christianized look, uber conservative.

“My parents don’t hate you but they wish this had never happened and under these questionable circumstances, if you want to talk to me anytime I’ll be there, OK?”

I sighed hoping not to break into tears, “It’d better if I disappeared from your lives...”

“No,no,” she said as she placed her hands upon mine, “You’re a fine person, it could have been anyone. Maybe...maybe he wanted to die doing something that he enjoyed the most. I have to go.”

Right before I was about to leave home a familiar face approached me wearing a tiny black dress, something so wicked for someone so tender. Out of all the other strangers, friends and close friends, Edith came up to me with such bravery. She even offered me her umbrella and began to talk to me in her usual paused, sweet tone of voice, “Hi!” she said cheerfully.

I felt truly fragile and I had no choice but embrace her so tightly and she continued , “I felt you would need some company.”

I sobbed just a bit and replied, “I couldn’t agree more, kid.”

“Can we go somewhere and talk, you know, in case you wanna get out of here or this a bad time?”

I extended her arms and contemplated her. She was the voice of reason under so much nonsense, like Alice stepping into a modern Wonderland, not that she looked like her at all. She was raven haired, milky skin, blue eyed, short tempered and incredibly adorable, how could I say no?

So I took to our favorite spot in the whole wide world, Fanneli’s .

God, she looked more beautiful that I remember her. I met Edie, as she like to be called back at NYU at her sophomore  year in Psychology.

It was written in the stars I believe that one evening she came to a collective exhibit I did in which I offered a simple piece named, Home. She was immediately engaged by it, especially because it looked so raw and emotional as I did at a major turning point in my life.

Of course when one is a newcomer to the art world they have this sort of feeling like a painting or any manifestation is like a puzzle waiting to be solved. Some use their few skills and try to interpret it while others study their whole lives. But no matter how much time you´ve spent beating your brains out, even if you think you know the artist´s work he comes back and surprises you once again; expect the unexpected and Edith was analyzing each and every one of the pieces as they were inkblot tests. She gestured too much, that´s why I couldn´t help noticing her that night.

So what I did is that I patiently observed her making absolutely no noise. The girl exclaimed, as she was watching it, which was oil and pastel abstract composition that resembled a hole.

"This is truly amazing, I´ve never seen anything like this," said Edith to herself. And I whispered, "I´m glad you liked it, because I made it..." She turned around and was even more amazed; she must have thought I wasn´t able to come up with something like that.

"But you see the merit of this composition is the sensation of depth that it gives you, it doesn´t stay all flat," I continued trying to make a fulfilling conversation. "I´m Black; Adrian Black. The guy who made this is insane by the way so you should be careful if you ever stumble upon him."

"And just how insane is he, huh?" asked Edith crossing her arms.

"As much as you like it," I said.

"I´m Edith Paige, insane boy..."

She wasn´t snobbish or anything like that, she was like an open book; no mysteries. Still, one she finally confessed one day she had chosen psychology because a part of her was broken. Her frailty besieged me. Broken people always follow me for some shitty reason I can´t explain.

We spent roughly two hours catching up on old times sipping as much coffee as I could while I was curled up in my black jacket.

“I'm an artist, it's not that unusual to have some scars in my life to inspire me. Actually I wondered if that was my fate; to have a tormented life watching everyone around me being hurt or let me hurt them back.”

“God no,” she said swinging her hand in mid air, “you’re too young to be carrying too much grief, what are you, twenty something...”

“I’ll be thirty next january.”

“Oh, that’s bad, that’s way too bad,” she said cynically. In a number of societies and subcultures being over twenty means that you’re practically washed up.

“I’m not old!” I replied, “I’m just experienced.”

Edith threw a very unexpected comment, “Was he experienced as well?” referring to Daniel. I felt intimidated talking about my same sex relationships with her but I continued as politely as I could.

She retracted, “Maybe I shouldn’t have asked that, I’m sorry...”

“Well...” I said while I took a sip of black coffee, “I don’t mind talking about these things. You can imagine what we did. You know, for the first time in many years I felt unwanted back there with his folks, I was a damn criminal.

“I understand that, Adrian but you have to look less obvious,” she said with arms crossed.

“How's obvious?”

“You may not be guilty per se but somehow I think you should reach out to them to make the best of it.”

I became slightly upset, “He was so manipulative, I can’t let this get to me. I have things to do, more important things, did you know that?”

“Ok, I do think you need some extra time to cool down.”

“So why did you come back, really?” I said taunting her.

Edith fell silent and mumbled, “I...can’t a girl just come and have a regular talk with an old friend?”

“Old friend, sure, I get that a lot.”

“Actually I was doing some serious thinking and I wondered if...”

“Go on.”

“If we could try to get to know each other a little bit better.”

I paused. My devious side was craving this moment but I had a lot of mixed emotions running around in my head. It was like the offer you can’t refuse, like watching a rainbow at the end of the storm. It was just too damn good to be true so I secretly decided to punish myself, and playing hard to get.

“I can’t promise you anything, Edie, but um, you’re always welcome to know me better by experiencing what I do best.”

“Which is?” she continued and playing with my double entendre.

“My work, of course! Damn.”

“I was just playing,” she said smiling.

“You scare me sometimes. Will you look at that? The rain just stopped. You know, we’re actually not that far away from my loft. If you’re not that busy I could show you some stuff and tell me what you think of it.”

“Is that an invitation?” she said smirking.

I laughed feeling somewhat embarrassed,  “You really are something...come.”

This damn november climate seemed to be intentionally made to chill your bones and this wasn’t the exception. Edith kept hugging me all the way back.

My workplace that was basically where all the magic happened was located on top of a building down Mercer Street, narrow and paved with cobblestone. And there, on the seventh floor it seemed as if we stepped into another time, another realm, a sort what I’d like to call Bauhaus on fire style with the minimal technology and the only the sound of vinyl records.

“Not much has changed, I see you still have it,” she said as she stepped into the foyer and pointed to a painting she believed was Home.”

“You see, um,” I continued, “it´s not the same one that you saw back then, it has a slightly different color pattern if you look closer.

“Oh, how about that?” she said impressed, “why do that?”

I kindly explained as I removed my jacket, “I make twin paintings sometimes or duplicates. It´s kind of personal why I do it. This one has more heart anyway.”

“Adrian, can I ask you something?” said Edith as she approached me. “Are you happy now?”

I began to grow concerned, “I’m not sure I’m able to answer that question in a way that favors you since I am surviving a tragedy.”

“No, aside from that,” she said. “I’ve been watching closely, more often than you  think  and you know that I always wanted for you to be happy no matter who you end up with.”

“Calm down! I guess I’m alright for now; being in a relationship is not my priority right now and what I do actually brings me that sense of satisfaction.”

“I see,” she said and remained crestfallen. “I guess I must be going now, I have to work early tomorrow...”

“You’re always welcome, you might as well call it a second home,” I said. I grabbed her hand  because I refused to let her leave; a part of me took over and ignored all reason.  It was at that precise moment that we stared at each other and she examined me with caution; I didn’t make a single move until she began to wrap her arms around me.

She tasted my lips and I felt naive, I let her take control of the situation and proceeded to fulfill her fantasy in the depths of my bedroom. Quite frankly it was going to happen sooner or later. I felt she was saving herself for this moment because she was so inspired and zesty. I didn’t deserve this, it was way too much for me to handle.

How I wish this could have been the happy ending, but the truth is the story has just begun.

This is no fairy tale yet I am the villain and she is the princess who fell in love with me. And the fairies they all tremble at my presence like Daniel. And the hero, the knight in shining armor...well let's just say that he doesn't exist in this picture.

It was especially chaotic this time of year. You see anything from street artists to celebrities and it's a bit ironic that even though they do the same kind of thing some of them are poor and the others are filthy rich prancing around Soho, once a modern paradise to the avant garde of the 70s art scene.

To me it was more than home but a kaleidoscope of emotions. When I was little I could perceive things the way they were so I can sense now that these walls are full of so much history that I swear sometimes I can see them and went back to the past.

My loft they say used to be an ancient factory back in the 1930s and it burned taking the lives of many innocent people. Nevertheless the brave and insane claimed this magnificent building as an art studio and I continued to do exactly the same thing. It wasn't that difficult to acquire the space since it was obvious that any potential buyer thought it was haunted. Luckily that reduced the price of the property and I was welcomed to it.

You can say that this place chose me because it simply flirted with me. I have sensibility for the unknown and supernatural my own mother thought I was being possessed by the Devil so she took it upon herself and did the best she could to make me a respectable human being. The only possible flaw in her plan was she that I'm not straight. One fine summer day I was caught doing a hand job to some kid in summer camp. He came on to me, I swear because I always attract broken people.

That didn't stop me from tasting anything I wanted. I'm not attracted to their body or gender but to their strong personality.

This is now the scary part of my life.

November 2009.

I was about to finish a set of twenty two paintings for a solo exhibition, which meant that it was a show consisting of me and just me. I had invited some very close friends and allies to witness this particular, especially my agent Chloe Smith,  the most prominent of her kind and with the attitude of a Bengal tiger.

There were Mark and James, the first was helping with some designs and upload some ‘stuff’ to my website. I had been making this for almost two goddamn years and it finally saw the light. Though at the beginning I didn’t have the slightest clue of what I was going to create for I decided to make the most deranged schedule I could think of choosing certain hours like 11 PM or 3 AM. They didn’t make sense back then and they don’t make any sense now. They are coincidences but I secretly wanted to provoke something.

“So is true this place is haunted? I heard some wild tales, you know...” said James.

“That’s what they say but then again I heard this place used to be a whorehouse in ancient times and...not much has changed,” I said cynically.

“Which brings me to the question everyone’s dying to hear; why do you prefer to live in old places when you can find a new one being who you are?”

“If I lived in a new place it would be boring; I enjoy them best when they’re full of history and mystery.”

I gathered them all in my haven which was of course my carefully designed studio. You can expect it most of the time to be cluttered, stained and unrecognizable and this wasn’t the exception although I did have some talismans to keep me inspired such as a full body mirror that was dated from the Art Nouveau period circa 1904. I loved its enormous space, it had round, industrial-like windows to provide natural light.

I kept it particularly dark, there were hardly any electronic devices or clocks only an old record player that played music from the 90s, other than that several drawers containing several containers full of new and aged acrylic paint, digital prints of my rabbit, Scraps which I used as a model, dozens of primed and unpacked canvas, used stencils made out of cardboard and small bookcases full of titles with random titles, mostly Occult themes, some of them were already there before I arrived.

“It’s always a bit chaotic in here, actually I still have some red paint on my hands so don’t think it’s blood or anything,” I said timidly facing my small audience. “Years ago I was asked if I had a style but I’d like to fool them shifting the way I do things. When you think you know my work I do my best to mess it up and start over again.

Chloe replied, “Oh, come on, you know things turn out to be so different in the end.”

“True, that’s absolutely true, or else I wouldn’t be in this business, even sometimes you have to give the people what they want...”

I proceeded to remove the cloth from the last one of the paintings to the earliest. It was titled Rabbit Monster, which featured a stylized figure of a rabbit deformed to resemble a devilish figure with the infinite symbol on its forehead all painted in red.

“There’s a story to this one,” I said with a sort of dramatic tone. “Because it took me forever to finish it.”

“I believe you,” said Edith raising her hand. “Although now that I think about it some crucial events happened while you were making it.”

“Which is fine by me,” said Chloe politely and with her paused Indian accent, “And your point is, if it’s not too much of a bother?”

“Are you trying to say, that there’s something spooky about it?” asked Mark. “Maybe I’m not that experienced in the matter but um, couldn’t this be because you’re provoking something?”

“Such as?” I said.

“Like you know when you play with ouija boards and shit like that..”

“No way! “ I said somewhat upset. This place is not haunted just...just curious. Anyway, I’ll be glad to show you the rest if you don’t mind.”

“From what I’ve seen so far this would be considered an element of sensationalism, my Dear,” said Chloe gesturing, “and I’m not quite sure if the gallery would appreciate that, unless...”

“Unless what?” said Edie while she finished her glass.

“It is naive, the way a child would paint but it exposes something truly serious...” said Chloe. “I like that, yes! Were the others done with the same technique?”

“Oh, absolutely!”

“Wonderful. It has a concept and it is inviting. I only wish this could have been shown on Halloween that would have been adequate. But who wouldn’t like to be scared on Christmas Eve, I do say...”

“I get scared all the time,” cried James, “but we deal with it because this town is crawling with freaks like you and me.”

“Hey, I got it!” said Mark, “this gives me an idea for the site. Imagine this, apparently you’re browsing these images when out of nowhere something happens...”

“Isn’t that a bit nineties stuff?” I said.

“Not if you rethink it...there could be something lurking in these paintings and you may not even know it.”

“This is starting to sound like it’s some kind of cheap urban legend...which of course can be retold over and over again,” I said upset.

“Why not, besides it doesn’t look cheap,” said Edie. “It can become a symbol of many ideas, it doesn’t have the right answer, it’s cryptic.”

“Meaning?”

“That it tells all and then nothing at all. It doesn’t have to mean anything unless you want it, therefore the ones who do get the message will be the ones who can truly judge it.”

“That’s wonderful Edie but I think that’s the entire point of making art,” I said.

“Don’t get discouraged Dear,” said Chloe patting me on the back. “This example will attract all sorts of followers, even the most unlikely. Broadening your horizons, how perfect, Adrian, you’re so brilliant!”

I wasn’t a bit surprised with their reactions, I knew they would become amazed but others might become disturbed if the stories behind them.

Somewhere around 11 PM Edie and I were left all alone however I began to feel terrible. I had been developing this cough for weeks and I found it rather hard to sleep. So I decided to crash downstairs back to the studio where there was a big leather couch.

“Adrian, are you alright? Are you sure you’re comfortable down here?” she asked.

I tried not to make her feel worried or else she’d be all over me, “Yeah, I’m alright. I’ll be upstairs in a few hours, there’s just something I need to check.”

“Well don’t work too late because you sure look tired...” she said trying to examine me and hugged me, “you do feel a little bit warm.”

“I’m fine, alright, I always am,” I said removing her arms from me.

“Don’t stay up too late.” Finally she went back upstairs.

There it was awfully cold unlike other days. I admit it was always drafty but this was uncanny so I made sure that all the windows were shut and bundled up as much as I could.

I sincerely ignore what time it was and I woke up for no apparent reason .My body felt like a ton of bricks and I could hardly walk. My first thought was to find something strong in order to make it through the night but I could only find some very mild analgesics.

A noise came about. In a way it startled me and it happened to be Scraps jumping up and down like the nocturnal creature he is.

He was so soft and tender and at the same time sensual for the eye patches which resembled heavy eyeliner. I caressed him to make him stay calm yet it seems that we both felt an abnormal amount of anxiety at the moment. I put him back into the cage and covered him with a cloth.

“God, it’s cold.” I rubbed my shoulders vigorously and tried to back to sleep.

Roughly two hours passed. I woke up again, I had no choice but to back to my own bedroom; sadly I wasn’t able to leave.

From there on I can barely remember anything, it was a if they were censored pieces from a film.

I went from one end to the other of the room, some strange noises were surfacing like the sounds of a factory, a giant rustled fan and some power plant. As I turned to see where it was coming from I found myself trapped.

Gradually the maplewood floor began to acquire a smoked tone and so did the rest of the walls. The noises stopped all of a sudden.

“You’re late,” said an eerie voice. “I was hoping we could talk.”

And then it hit me; the voice may have been distorted but there was no doubt it could only be him, Daniel.

“You’re dead,” that was my initial reaction.

“Indeed I am but tell me, why am I still here?” He approached the dim light and was wearing what he called a black fur suit complete with rabbit ears like the Black Rabbit of Inle, casually one of the scariest characters from my childhood, an agent of Death.

I could still hear Scraps however because he jumped violently.

He came closer and embraced me. He whispered, “Oh, so I see that you finished your work. Very soon the world will know about what we had together.”

I was breathing heavily, “What are you talking about?”

He smiled, “Come on, don’t pretend you don’t know me...” He ran his hands across my chest, they felt both icy yet I found them mysteriously stimulating. My eyes started watering , “Please...don’t do this.”

Coincidentally we stood against the mirror and I could see his reflection and the way he kissed my neck. As soon as I saw myself I noticed that my mouth was gushing blood...

I struggled to break free but it was hopeless; for an insignificant skinny fellow he was mighty strong. I felt like he was crushing me as I began to run out of air and coughing blood. Finally, my senses gave in and I hit the ground.

Soon everything faded into black.

I vaguely recall other people or Edith, bright lights,  too much meds...and in middle of this chaos I had a vision.

It was both funny and sad. I grabbed a backpack full of all my crayons and sketchbooks and bundled up in the middle of a cold winter morning while everyone else was asleep.

The Black River, one of the biggest if not the only which crosses Elyria was a recurring hideaway for me and that required a lot of walking but I really didn’t give a damn, I must have been so desperate that all I wanted to do was to feel the wind in my face and just think about nothing at all.

While I stopped to catch my breath I couldn’t help noticing a small creature moving by the bushes nearby. It happened to be a small velvety black rabbit. His eyes were flaming red because they were colorless or so they told me. He looked at me as though I was a wolf or something and quickly disappeared into a road up ahead. It lead towards a portion of the Black River so I decided to follow him just like Alice followed the White Rabbit because I am still under the belief that in everyone’s imagination it will get you somewhere and also because he was so damn unusual.

I watched him as he jumped on top a flat rock and there he remained. I couldn’t resist to take out my sketchbook and to draw him as fast as I could. The most fascinating part is that he refused to leave that spot, almost as if he was waiting for me to come along. And so I did, I left my things behind and slowly began to walk across the frozen river.

Little did I know that the ice was so thin and began to crack. It was so sudden; my senses shut down as I began to sink and run out of oxygen. Luckily an old man who lived nearby found me and pulled me out like nothing at all. My reward; spending some hard time recovering. I couldn’t step outside for days and stay in bed. Mom and Dad forgave me for my rotten attitude and that this would be some sort of lesson.

About the rabbit that I saw Mom said I could have made it up because she thought I was chasing the Black Rabbit of Inle; the infamous character in Watership Down. Death seeks me, it's not my fault if it's in love with me.

“Hi, baby, how are you?” said Edith.

"Why am I here?” I said a bit uneasy. I was lying on some hospital bed.

Edith carefully explained, "Well, um, you see, I had to bring you here .You’ve been in observation for the last two days, you know, just to make sure there were no complications. You need is some proper rest , plenty of fluids and then you'll be okay to go home.”

"What's wrong with me?"

“You have a bad case of pneumonia, that’s what. You stopped breathing for some time.I went back downstairs because I heard some strange noises and... found you lying in the ground.”

I rolled to the side of the stiff bed.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling so bad?”

“I...I’m sorry, I guess I didn’t want to worry you so much.”

“You scared me! Anyway, what’s done is done but promise me you’ll take better care of yourself from now on.”

I felt like such an idiot that if actually told her what I went through that night she’d take for a lunatic. However I did my best to change the subject,

“Edie...thank you. I’m truly glad to see you. I must be losing my mind.”

“Hey, relax, okay? You just had a rough time. I’ll come back in the morning. By the way I also found this lying around in your studio...”

She handed me an old college notebook which I used as a journal but that was a long time ago. It was dated somewhere around 2004 and since then I stopped writing or scribbling in it.

I did notice however that there were a few pages stained with blood at exactly this date:  November 11th.

“What day is it?” I bothered to ask.

“November 11th, 2009, why?”

“Nothing, I just lost track of time.”

While there were little to no chances of anyone believing this experience I began to record the dreams and visions I had until they started to make sense if there ever was any. And so I carefully penned down the events I dreamed when I was struggling to survive.

As I was writing that night I made a recollection about all the random supernatural experiences in my life and it took me all the way down to my hometown, my dearest Elyria, Ohio.

When I used to date Lisa Summers back in high school, she did this bizarre reading by using my date of birth:

JANUARY 29TH, 1981.

How was that done, again? I did the math in my diary:

Your date broken into numbers is:

1 + 2 + 9 + 1 + 9 + 8 +1 = 31

“The trick to reveal your life path is by reducing it to just one number, so three plus one is four.”

“So what the Hell does four mean?”

FOUR STANDS FOR THOSE PEOPLE WHO ARE INDEED HARDWORKING AND HAVE GREAT CHANCES OF SUCCEEDING. Plus, your sign is Aquarius, right?

“Yeah, so?”

IT MAKES SENSE IF YOU WANT TO USE YOUR TALENT TO OPEN UP TO OTHERS AND REACH OUT TO HELP THEM. YOU´RE SUPPOSED TO BE FRIENDLY TOO…

“Woman, I´m not God. I don´t think I´ll ever be, no one is. If you want to make me one, go ahead.”

That was probably one of the multiple reasons why I stopped going out with her. One time she begged me to visit this old structure that looked like an abandoned castle. It was rumored that it used to belong to some dude who got lucky and was hiding in the outbounds of Elyria for some shitty reason, you know, that kind of people that everyone talks about but no one messes with, probably some gangsters. Anyways, Lisa said that an evil force or vibe or spirit was lurking. Not that the place was haunted, it’s just that she said:

MANY OBJECTS THAT PEOPLE CHERISHED LEAVE TRACES BEHIND.

And I went, “like fingerprints?” I’m sorry, I was sixteen and horribly naïve.

NO, YOU SEE, THEIR PSYCHIC ENERGY INVADES THINGS, EVEN THE SMALLEST ONES.

Ever since she laid her eyes upon me she felt I was capable of picking up that so-called voodoo energy like I was a radar for the dead. She was thinking like I was to join her legion of fucked up teens or something and before things got even worse I declined her invitation. Unfortunately she told her friends that I said Goths suck and they’re a bunch of wannabe vampires.

Was I so overwhelmed by that? No, I don’t think so. That was part of her game, since she was the one who wanted to have a supernatural experience so badly to compensate her need for affection. That I can understand, but I did the civilized thing to ignore her bitching, which is why I stopped calling her. So as you can see, I did learn a few magic tricks on my own.

“THE MORE YOU TALK ABOUT SOMEONE, THE MORE POWERFUL HE OR SHE BECOMES.”

Of course, there’s the portrait I did of her as well, I should bury it, burn it, rip it to shreds but I’m still scared.

Almost dawn, I can’t go on, need to sleep.

Mother called in; she wanted to know how I was doing and as usual I was utterly sincere and I made her cry. Sorry, I had no reason to lie, it´s just that she doesn´t trust Edith that much. Makes sense, also had to postpone some events, that part I hate.

YOU´RE HUMAN AFTER ALL…AT THE RATE YOU´RE GOING, YOU SHOULD BE OUT IN NO TIME…

“Thanks girl, you’re beginning to get to know me better.” There, I said it. This is one of the very few times I actually admitted that a woman was right at something, I´ve been tripping with the same stone too many times, ´guess this event was my wake up call, hitting rock bottom, or whatever you wanna call it.

I wish there was a mirror so I could see if I looked pale or emaciated. Edie was the one who noticed I looked different the day we decided to get back together. Not that I cared about my personal appearance but then again like I said many times, “Don´t worship me, worship my work!”

I found it odd still how she came freely as if somehow she knew I was in trouble that day at the funeral, intuition I guess.

But then the work is me. As I said once in an interview,

“My art is just an extension of me. Like an oversized limb trying to reach out and touch others.”

I was feeling like a boulder again, so weak and beaten up inside, I felt a big sting in my chest, knees shaking…

IT´S CALLED RELAPSE, HONEY; MAYBE YOU SHOULD LIE DOWN BEFORE YOU WORSEN…

“I´m sorry, who are you again?” so I asked desperately.

I´M MARLA, THE NURSE FOR THE NIGHT. SO YOU BETTER LISTEN TO ME IF YOU WANT TO LIVE.

This was gonna be a long night indeed. The lady was middle aged and wore a rather outdated white uniform from the 1960s. She was tall and bulky yet she had a serene voice.

EDITH TOLD ME TO TELL YOU THAT SHE’LL BE BACK IN THE MORNING.

“You do know who I am, don’t you?”

IT’LL BE ALRIGHT, MR. BLACK, SHE TOLD US TO TAKE GOOD CARE OF YOU, IS SHE YOUR WIFE?

Damn, she got me cornered now. “She is my girlfriend, what makes you think she’s something else?”

The middle aged woman answered politely,

I KNOW SHE ISN’T, BUT SHE SHOULD BE, YOU PEOPLE NEED TO SETTLE DOWN AFTER THE LITTLE STORY SHE TOLD ME.

“She told how I ended up here? It was a very painful night but I’d rather not talk about it.”

AS YOU WISH.

Well, that sure stirred me up for such a casual conversation. I don’t know whether I was pale because of my illness or because I was freaking nervous. “What do you mean by “you people”?” I asked her as she forced me to go back to bed.

I DON’T KNOW MUCH ABOUT ART, MR. BLACK, YET I THINK YOU HIDE BEHIND IT. THAT DOESN’T HELP VERY MUCH, IN FACT IT ISOLATES YOU FROM THE REST OF THE WORLD, THEREFORE NO ONE UNDERSTANDS YOU.

“Why do you tell me this, you’re supposed to make me feel better. At least my ‘wife’ knew exactly what I needed. You say I hide in my art to avoid getting damaged, is that it? You think you know me, but you have a lot to learn!”

OF COURSE NOT, YOU’VE BEEN GIVEN ANOTHER CHANCE, BOY, USE IT TO TURN THINGS AROUND, NOW BE A DEAR AND HELP ME OUT, HOLD STILL...

She gave a shot of something that resembled a milky white substance but whatever it was it knocked me out before I could even ask her anything else. Ah damn...

I´m not afraid of dreams, but they sure bring back memories, like a book that hasn´t been closed yet. When I stopped seeing some people or broke up with girlfriends or boyfriends my mind triggered these visions in which I was wounded, especially from my side. And the weirdest thing of all was that I could be in a rather good mood, but on the other hand another ´side ‘of me needed my attention. Today I woke up having exactly that feeling.

MAYBE YOU ARE SEEING THIS BECAUSE YOUR BODY IS STILL TRYING TO HEAL…is there anything else I can do?

“No, Edith,” I said abruptly. “Come here…” I gave her the tightest hug that I could give. “I do this so I can feel, if I do then I´m awake in this world, am I?”

YOU´VE BEEN THROUGH A LOT LATELY, I THOUGHT YOU WERE A GONNER FOR SURE…

“Have you talked to anyone here about me and the other night?”

ADRIAN, NO! OF COURSE NOT…why are you telling me this?

“A nurse, Marla, she came in and told me nasty things about me, and that she´d talked to you.”

I DIDN´T SEE THAT PERSON DEAR…maybe it was another dream?

Silence invaded the room for a while, let´s say a minute; lots of things come to mind, like when you wish upon a star, blowing out the candles from a birthday cake and all that conventional shit. Moreover, it announced the presence of the spirits.

“I was just, you know...talking to someone else.”

NO...Oh, you must have been hallucinating from that fever. “Quite frankly I don't know what you're up to these days, but I kept praying for you.”

No, I wasn’t dying or anything like that; times like these are defined by the connoisseurs as surreal; a moment between being awake and asleep…

“Is it a kind of dream,

Floating out on the tide,

Following the river of death downstream?

Oh, is it a dream?”

Suddenly the sky turns into this giant painting, with a palette that only God has, the scents are flagrant and the sounds become the soundtrack of your life…

“Bright eyes,

Burning like fire.

Bright eyes,

How can you close and fail?

How can the light that burned so brightly

Suddenly burn so pale?

Bright eyes..”

When I was seven I got fixated on Watership Down. We didn´t have much books around the house, so I grabbed it and held to it before it became it became dirt. Then everything about it became an obsession. I used to have a vision in living in a much better place but I was never warned about the perils of this brave new world they call New York.

I kept a snippet from a magazine , the date was unknown but I think it was two years ago.

interview from CB Art Magazine; winter edition.

AT THIS POINT IN YOUR LIFE HOW DO YOUR DEFINE YOUR ART, ADRIAN?

“Sometimes it lacks a definition, some have called it surrealist but it’s just an excuse some people add to things that look very far-fetched but very handsome at the same time. It´s supposed to have a strong effect on the viewer, and if doesn´t then it´s meaningless. I tossed many of my own works because of that. It doesn´t always has to be pleasant."

LIKE WHEN YOU DRAW THINGS OUT OF YOUR NIGHTMARES?

"I´ve had some very potent dreams and haven´t woken up from them, does that mean they´re pleasant? I´ve seen myself drenched in blood and I think that every sane mind knows that should be something to be concerned about. I haven´t painted those things yet, if so they would hang me."

THUS YOU BECOME MORE SELECTIVE WITH THE THEMES...

"Why should one censor ideas that quickly? It´s like an abortion, but you do it unconsciously because you´ve been already trained to do it for generations. It´s not the same thing when one kills an insect just because you feel it´s threatening. Those things are taught even at school. We grow afraid of inner demons and angels. If we fear it, we don´t touch it, but at the same time we award more power to it. I guess that proves your point."

DO YOU BELIEVE YOUR ART HAS BEEN CENSORED SOMETIMES?

"No, but I have contained it..."

But I was the one who couldn´t contain myself any longer. A sustained sigh cut the silence. I made it back home somehow. My house had a very large studio full of knick knacks, some very old, some that had never been used, and others I collected for mere sentimental value, like a full body mirror which had a very particular kind of frame. It was highly stylized like in an art nouveau kind of way, carefully carved, it was dated since 1904. I rescued it from an antique store on a rainy afternoon, I must have been so blue and compulsive but not that insane to realize I had damn good taste; it was indeed a beautiful thing to look at, except for my reflection, I was still recovering for at least another week.

Nevertheless I had some works almost finished and once again the common subject was the figure of the rabbit. It was the first time I decided to bring it to the real world; it had bothered me so much it was sickening me. Let´s hope that counted as actual therapy. I agreed to show them at a local gallery, Chloe insisted. Most of the time I avoided the sunlight because it announced the beginning of another long day, and I had literally nothing valuable to do since some essential things were done for me. So an emptiness came to rape my mind and I was drained from inspiration.

I despise those so-called artists that wait until inspiration strikes them in order to come up with something original.Inevitably I became surrounded by them in a period of my life and they polluted me. Every person who gets involved in this industry has this fixation that they´ll someday come up with their masterpiece, thus they work hard on that dream until it comes true. Yet, in reality it doesn´t happen quite like that. For me it´s been more about the technique, like a journey to the bottom of the sea, the deeper you go the more you feel. Like a very intense orgasm. Now there´s a fucking masterpiece. Can´t reveal if I did this last thing on my own or with someone else...

SO GLAD TO SEE YOU´RE BACK HOME AGAIN, DEAR.

Mother. She called again and she lectured me about caring for my health, but these days I´m more concerned about my mental health.

ARE YOU TAKING YOUR MEDS?

"I´m supposed to, they gave me enough for the next two weeks but the side effects are giving me a hard time if you know what I mean," and the I gently caressed my stomach.

IS THAT WHY YOU´RE IN A BAD MOOD TODAY?

"Hell no! Although I feel like I drained many things off my system these last few days."

I SEE, JUST HAVE SOME PATIENCE. THESE THINGS SHOULD BE HANDLED WITH CARE...

What things?

YOU KNOW...

I like that warning, "HANDLE WITH CARE" I should put a sign with it over myself, just joking. I sat down on the neatly polished maplewood floor as I was opening my sketchbook...some swirls that I made obsessively until the pencil was worn out. They looked more like a rabbit holes, or it could stand for other things, I´m not sure. That´s the beauty of art; there are no right or wrong answers, that´s why they can never accuse you of implanting evil ideas in people´s heads. The meaning is obtained after careful observation and from there on it becomes a symbol. So, I see no harm in putting rabbits in whatever situations I can possibly imagine. It means nothing until you want.

This is a part of my life I would label as self abusive.

My mother always said to me that there are no ugly people in this world that in fact they all turned into angels when they slept.

"You look so peaceful, like a beautiful corpse, "said Edie as she caressed me.

"Why do you say that?"

"Some people might think that you're so threatening and impenetrable but when you sleep you turn vulnerable and manageable just like your rabbit."

"Yeah well," I said as I tried to get up, "you clearly underestimate Scraps. His intelligence is remarkable and he can sense danger therefore he's like my watchdog."

"That's adorable!" she cried, "You know, you never actually told me about your fixation with bunnies."

"I just assumed they were part of my life."

"Yeah but, what do you see in them?"

"I don't know. Sometimes a fetish, magic, trickery, a reminder of what's left of my innocence."

"Here..." She handed me an orange transparent container.

"Thanks although I am starting to feel better."

"That's nice but you have to finish them in order to be completely well."

I hated this part because the pills made me feel rather drowsy.

"What time is it anyway? I asked and sighed.

"It's 8 o' clock, I guess," she said, "don't you worry, I already phoned your agent and as long you stay in touch she'll come back in a few days to give you more instructions for your project."

"I sure picked a wrong time to get sick."

"Well it always comes when you least expect it, that's why it's annoying, but on the other hand you do need to take better care of yourself from now on. I've seen you."

"Seen what?" I said rather nervous.

"You know...because you look so thin. Anyway, if you need anything..."

I knew well what Edith was talking about but I won't fill in the details, it's a rather disturbing chapter, the point is I made it out alive. Come to think of it Daniel said the same things to me but in a darker more cynical tone. Actually one time he claimed that he had fucked someone younger than me and then stopped talking me for a while. He said I started to become “unattractive.”

This building must have its own way of communicating with me, even through dreams.  It isn’t relevant, I would have expected something much more glorious, but instead I was in a sort of attic that resembled my current studio. I sat down and stared at the mirror; I was wearing some kind of a gray shirt, then I could notice some little girl wanted my attention and I gave her the cold shoulder. She had a dress which reminded me of the forties kind of fashion like from an old black and white film.

“ Do I remind you of anyone, perhaps a storybook girl, the one who is always chasing a rabbit?” she said repeatedly.

“ If so, why are you here?” I answered.

“Because you are the White Rabbit,” then she giggled in a very malicious way.

“Then that means that I must have a queen to obey that will surely cut my head off if I don’t do something right.”

“You do have one but you must cut her head off before she decides to grow more.”

Then I remember going downstairs to the kitchen; it looked like the one in my old home in Elyria and there sat this lonely boy dressed in black at the head of the table. And then as I had some breakfast with him I was seemed to be giving him some special advice. The boy felt better. But the girl who I was ignoring said hi to me and I ignored for the second time, I needed some peace, so I went back to my bedroom with my ´wife, uh, which was Edith, of course. I´m no guru so everyone can come to me for infinite wisdom, I’m just a very lucky guy who’s still discovering for what he’s worth.

Letting go is tough; they always give me a hard time because I refuse to get rid of old things in my room, and especially if they had some sort of sentimental value. The same rule applied to the people who touched my heart.

That girl in my dream knew something about me and felt we had a bond, but I couldn't even see her face.

“DON'T IGNORE ME, ADRIAN, I'M NOT VERMIN, OR HAVE YOU SLAYED.”

Someone told me a long time ago there was such a thing called a psychic link; an invisible thread that is fed upon empathy, that's why I was taught to give back instead of keeping things to yourself. It doesn't have to do anything with karma or religion or any deranged cult out there. It's just a way of extending yourself.

Art should be like this, but then others don't do it, they're selfish and get all caught up in their little universe. I think I made sense when I hugged Edie, not quite sure if she felt a deeper connection with me after this, but it did help me to be quite aware of how concerned she was about her family, maybe she left the nest too early and I left it too late. Nevertheless she shows up every now and then in my visions, like a specter or a ghost with her thin raven hair hiding her killer smile, surrounded by a royal blue ambient.

I can understand the act of connecting with people I've met, but what about those that I haven't even seen or heard about in real life? Stupid little girl, she kept bugging me that night.

Damn, now I was getting a flashback from art school;

"How do you see these trees? They are yellow. So, put in yellow; this shadow, rather blue, paint it with pure ultramarine; these red leaves? Put in vermilion. That's what Paul Gaugin said."

Gray, everything was particularly gray and with somber tones in that dream, it reminded me of the time I was more seclusive in my earlier days, do you think the girl symbolized an entire population that I chose to ignore? I haven't addressed anybody lately except for my closest friends and family.

Afternoon came, around 1:11 PM, the sun was up hours ago and I was still tidying up, can't work when everything ‘s scattered all over the place, makes you feel like your mind is a mess as well. There were these other sets of semi-professional paints they gave me and I kept because I didn’t have the heart to say that they were useless to me, maybe could come in handy later, but somehow that “later” never comes.

HAVING FUN YET?

“I’m tired, so fucking tired, can’t explain how incredibly exhausted I am. I need my strength back soon.”

PATIENCE DEAR, ONE STEP AT A TIME.

“That’s the problem, you ask me for patience, it doesn’t grow on trees, you know.”

YOU WERE ALWAYS SO JUMPY, NO WONDER YOU LIKE RABBITS…

“Edith…”

YES?

“Are you happy?”

YES, OF COURSE, WHY ARE YOU ASKING ME THAT?

“What do you consider being happy?”

Well, having everything I always wanted, that’s one. You are one of them.

Letting go is tough; they always give me a hard time because I refuse to get rid of old things in my room, and especially if they had some sort of sentimental value. The same rule applied to the people who touched my heart.

That girl in my dream knew something about me and felt we had a bond, but I couldn't even see her face.

“DON'T IGNORE ME, ADRIAN, I'M NOT VERMIN, OR HAVE YOU SLAYED.”

Someone told me a long time ago there was such a thing called a psychic link; an invisible thread that is fed upon empathy, that's why I was taught to give back instead of keeping things to yourself. It doesn't have to do anything with karma or religion or any deranged cult out there. It's just a way of extending yourself.

Art should be like this, but then others don't do it, they're selfish and get all caught up in their little universe. I think I made sense when I hugged Edith, not quite sure if she felt a deeper connection with me after this, but it did help me to be quite aware of how concerned she was about her family, maybe she left the nest too early and I left it too late. Nevertheless she shows up every now and then in my visions, like a specter or a ghost with her thin raven hair hiding her killer smile, surrounded by a royal blue ambient.

I can understand the act of connecting with people I've met, but what about those that I haven't even seen or heard about in real life? Stupid little girl, she kept bugging me that night.

Damn, now I was getting a flashback from art school;

"How do you see these trees? They are yellow. So, put in yellow; this shadow, rather blue, paint it with pure ultramarine; these red leaves? Put in vermilion. That's what Paul Gaugin said."

Gray, everything was particularly gray and with somber tones in that dream, it reminded me of the time I was more seclusive in my earlier days, do you think the girl symbolized an entire population that I chose to ignore? I haven't addressed anybody lately except for my closest friends and family.

Afternoon came, around 1:11 PM, the sun was up hours ago and I was still tidying up, can't work when everything ‘s scattered all over the place, makes you feel like your mind is a mess as well. There were these other sets of semi-professional paints they gave me and I kept because I didn’t have the heart to say that they were useless to me, maybe could come in handy later, but somehow that “later” never comes.

HAVING FUN YET?

“I’m tired, so fucking tired, can’t explain how incredibly exhausted I am. I need my strength back soon.”

PATIENCE DEAR, ONE STEP AT A TIME.

“That’s the problem, you ask me for patience, it doesn’t grow on trees, you know.”

YOU WERE ALWAYS SO JUMPY, NO WONDER YOU LIKE RABBITS…

“Edith…”

YES?

“Are you happy?”

YES, OF COURSE, WHY ARE YOU ASKING ME THAT?

“What do you consider being happy?”

Well, having everything I always wanted, that’s one. You are one of them.

“So nice of you to include me in your universe.”

You are my universe Adrian, why do talk like I didn´t care about you?

“I´ve seen you, you only act protective now because you´re supposed to like any other person who has ever felt concerned about me. But then a few days ago I see you crying out alone, nostalgic.”

I WASN´T BEING NOSTALGIC, I FELT AFRAID BECAUSE I MIGHT LOSE YOU! YOU MIGHT NOT REMEMBER BUT YOU WENT THROUGH SOME HEAVY STUFF THAT NIGHT.

“Such as?”

I, I DON´T WANNA TALK ABOUT IT, IT´S SORT OF PAINFUL TO ME , THAT TELLS YOU BAD IT WAS. LOOK, THIS INCIDENT IS SUPPOSED TO BRING US TOGETHER, NOW MORE THAN EVER, DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT MEANS?

“That I am an idiot for being careless lately?”

Edith frowned upon this last statement; she placed her hands on my face and kissed me gently, “I understand you´re fearless, but you´re not indestructible. You don´t know what it´s like to lose something until it happens.”

She was right. I couldn’t tell her that I missed her terribly when she was away. I guess feeling weak does count, but eventually I´ll get stronger.

“I´ve been seeing things, Edith,” I said. “Can you help me explain them?”

Now I´m not saying that she had all the right answers, but I guess this would help her in her career formation. You see, she´s still in college, she´s on her last year now.

“You should be drinking less, that never does any good, you know that.”

“I understand that part, but, tell me, why do I have them, like I was being haunted?”

Edith pulled back her hair and spoke with a slight pause. We sat down on the floor.

YOU´RE NOT MAD SWEETIE, you´re just going through changes. Old feelings, new feelings travel in your head all the time. However, if they´re not addressed in the proper way they become more evident, they become more intense until you take care of them. Now that you´re getting better your dreams should stabilize as well.

“Do you think I have some sort of power or gift like fortune tellers?,” I asked that just for fun.

WE ALL DO. BUT MAYBE SOME PEOPLE DON´T BECOME AWARE THAT THEY HAVE IT. THE MIND IS A VERY POWERFUL MUSCLE, YOU CAN MAKE REAL ANYTHING YOU WANT AND BELIEVE IN IT. Fortune tellers convince people that they will have a happy life, it´s not magic.

“Fuck…”, my eyes started watering. “Listen to me, all I want is some decent answers.”

LOOK, DON´T FORCE YOURSELF TO DO THAT, IT MIGHT BE JUST A WAY THAT YOU NEED TO BELIEVE IN SOMETHING, YOU DO BELIEVE IN GOD, DO YOU?

“That´s the problem, I rarely pray like you do, but I´m no atheist or anything. I am attracted to what I can´t explain though.”

EVEN IN ART THERE´S NO EXPLANATION SOMETIMES, EVERYBODY SEES WHAT THEY WANT TO SEE.

I´ll have to say this girl was wise beyond her age. She felt comfortable talking to me, like in a motherly attitude, yet she only talks about what she knows best, not about art, that´s why I said from the beginning she´s non-artistic.

SO WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DO RIGHT NOW?

“Edith,” I moaned. “I am hungry, and I mean very ,very hungry.”

NOW THAT SOUNDS MORE LIKE YOUR USUAL SELF. COME DOWNSTAIRS. I´LL FIX SOMETHING FOR YOU.

Edith, my non-artistic follower, it’s weird that she sticks with me after that incident we had two years ago.

She lived here in my big old magnificent loft which is located in the heart of Soho, my primordial source of inspiration. Some say that it has grown so much in this last decade to the point that it has lost some of the mystique that made it possible that the artistic community achieved new heights. I never actually cared about those details.

I wanted this place so badly because I felt it chose me. It figures but then again I should warn you, it attracts vermin.

We lifted some controversy because we had been the best of friends and not sharing any intimacy. However, the first time we did it I felt guilty and she was scared. She ran away from me like a frightened little girl from a monster. Now she behaves like a groupie.

She gave something that I haven’t tried in years, vegetable soup, she said it would be good for me.

After that I fell into a very deep sleep on the leather couch in the living room. I think I was under the impression that I had a lucid dream.

The lighting was all blue, a royal blue to be exact.

After I crossed to the other side of a so called looking glass I was walking down a hallway that was filled with dozens of small paintings and my immediate response was that I wept and stood crestfallen as if somehow I knew what was about to come. I went into an operating room. I saw myself tied up to the table while vicious human like creatures with headlights scrutinized every last part of me.

At this point I realized if they had done more things to me back in the hospital like an operation of some sort. I asked Edie a bit more and she just bothered to say this:

“Well, it seems that you were having a hard time breathing but you shouldn’t torture yourself asking these questions, you say that your work is done?”

“Depends on what you call work,” I answered.

“The paintings, silly!”

“I know what you’re talking about, I was just testing you!”

By now she noticed that I was a tad superstitious and that I had a nasty habit of not showing anyone my work before it was exhibited but in her case I made an exception.

“Do you like them?” I asked as I got out of the couch.

“How can I like them if I haven’t even seen them?” she said.

“Of course you have but you may not remember...” So I took away the cloth from the canvas which roughly measured 70 by 23 inches. It had a tall stylized red rabbit, the last one I saw before I lost consciousness. Strangely, however I noticed some slight changes to the overall look. It was splattered with blood and I could tell because the stains had turned maroon instead of the Indian Red I had used on this piece. Luckily Edith could never tell the difference, she would just assume that I put it there for some reason.

“Well?” I asked.

“It, um, looks gruesome but there’s no doubt it will grab attention, what do you call it?”

Originally I did know what this one was about. I traced my childhood memories all the way back to a time when I ‘ran away’ from home.

History repeats itself this time. I didn’t learn anything special back then so what was I supposed to learn now?

I guess then it should be no problem to narrate what drove me to paint this gruesome piece.

There were wanted to use techniques I´ve never dealt with before. I hated oil paintings, but they always add a dramatic effect; using fur would be appropriate, but I couldn’t be allowed to use the real thing, they would hang me, not to mention it would be a longer process.

Fiberglass sounded interesting, riskier perhaps, leaves blistered fingers though, not to mention that it clings to any single part of your body you can imagine. Hmm…I took my chances...

They say music can soothe the savage beasts but in my case it's the entire contrary: it lights the darkest corners of my mind, will have to apply some special tricks to make this rabbit come out of his hole.

"Hi ho! Oh, we'll smoke the blighter out. He'll put the beast to rout. Some kindling, a stick or two, all this bit of rubbish ought to do."

"We'll smoke the monster out!"

So said the Dodo to the White Rabbit.

As my old man used to say,” if you don't have blistered, splintered, bruised and battered hands then you haven't lived enough.” No doubt about that, but that's not good advice for a suicidal person.

I plunged my hands into a tray of Indian Red paint, the same way a child would play with mud and then I literally slapped the canvas; I felt I was pouring my heart and soul into this one, that at some point it triggered some repressed memories, and I…I fell down on my knees and cried desperately. It was liberating.

Some words echoed in my head, “Turn me into something beautiful, turn me into something free...”

I was all by myself that afternoon, Edith came back a few hours later but I still told her about this experience. We tell each other everything. Anyway she said, “I believe this counts as therapy which is good. You decided to release your darkest demons. I’m proud of you, I really am.”

Funny, an old school teacher said the same things about what I did.

Back when I was in high school Lisa Summers talked me into making a portrait of her as soon as she became aware of my talents, she practically used me and I was okay with that.

Anyways, Lisa had the look of a classic goth of the 90s; she had natural black hair, brown eyes, white freckled skin, more or less skinny. She started developing a raspy voice from being an early smoker, that part I hated.

She lead this sort of double life. Lisa was a daughter of a minister so before she behaved like a saint but after school immediately she slapped on the black lipstick and heavy eyeliner like anyone could give a fuck.

One weekend when her parents went away on vacation she proposed that i should immortalize her as the thing that her dad would hate the most or just to piss him off. I didn’t see any problem with that.

At the time she owned a large siamese cat I called Sade, like the legendary Marquis de Sade.

The girl was barely fourteen when she snatched a copy of “Juliet” from a pile of books her father was using for a lecture. She thought she was being a sort of rebel yet I still considered her a poser that would grow up to have an average life still living in Elyria while attempting to survive rehab with a large family and married to some dumb fuck. Anyway seeing the two of them gave me the chills like this was a start of a deadly alliance.

It was my prized possession, not her, the painting. When I went back to school next Monday I thought it was the perfect excuse to show in art class. The teacher, a middle aged divorced woman probably in her forties patiently analyzed all of our works until she saw mine. She stopped and cried in a very snobbish tone,

“Dear child, what have you done?!”

“Don’t you like it?” I asked timidly.

“Adrian, while I admit that your talent is unique and that it does surprise me the only observation I have piece is the fact that you managed to make a portrait out of a normal person.”

“And what’s wrong with that?”

She took and deep sigh and placed her bony hand upon my shoulder. “I expected more from you. I do want you to be a true artist but you cannot make things like these for the rest of your life. It is banal, useless, a real artist is bold enough to explore the depths of his soul and portray the angels and demons that dwell inside. Only if you show them to the rest of the world you will have managed to make a work of art and will be remembered for generations.”

I was shocked and I didn’t understand a word she said so I discarded the idea of making portraits for a long time, it was my strict policy. I never made one for my lovers and told Edith I wouldn’t do it for her either. Still, that didn’t rule out the possibility of making self portraits.

Edith told me it was superstition once again, imaginary things that haunted me like the monster under the bed and stuff.

I'm a big devil, or I must be one. Edith said she couldn't sleep well last night after what she saw. She told me that as a kind of side effect she remembered when she spent her days on the school playground. She recalled that she saw a friend of her being teased and laughed at.

"I...I think I felt compassion for those in need," she said softly. "I really wanted to help him, so we became best friends. We shared lots of things, but then for some reason we lost contact."

"And why haven't you tried to call him back?" I asked.

"I really don't know how to find him anymore...It’s just a flashback,” said Edith speaking nervously.

"What about those social network thingies like Facebook...?”

ADRIAN! WHO ARE WE TALKING ABOUT HERE, YOU OR ME?

"I was just being curious."

IT'S JUST A DREAM, YOU KNOW, MAYBE SOMETHING JOGGED MY DEEPEST MEMORIES, THAT'S ALL.

"Like what you saw yesterday?"

IT'S HARD TO SAY.IT'S NOT MAGICAL...OH...

She snapped and she looked back at me smiling deeply.

I BET YOU WANT TO KNOW IF WATCHING YOU WORK CAUSED ME THIS, RIGHT?

"Absolutely, woman!"

I'LL BE HONEST, I WAS MOVED...

"And," I said expecting something else, but I kept repeating teasing her swinging her arm playfully.

STOP IT! YES! YES! IT WAS SO INTENSE AND POWERFUL...

"Ewww," I said as I made a nasty look, "you said intenzze..."

I KNOW WHAT YOU WANT, BUT YOU'RE GONNA HAVE TO WORK HARD ON IT...

Shit...All I wanted was for her to say "thank you", what the Hell was she thinking about? Oh...now I see.

Even she knew when my eyes lit up it meant I was seeking some feedback. We could talk for hours without even opening our mouths. One powerful gaze and the rest was history; one frown meant she grew puzzled at what she saw and I knew that it'd be harder for her to figure out what I was trying to say. It's like laying an unofficial seal of approval upon my work, even though anyone was welcome to give out its own interpretation, such as Chloe Smith, my agent. She is my OFFICIAL seal of approval.

The first time she got hold of me she said, “You’re not an artist!” So then, I had to give her credit, I was only 20 years old. “You may look like an artist, act like an artist, and even talk like one, but your so-called art certainly betrays you, boy!” So then we sat down as Chloe began to lecture me:

“It has to come from the inside, from the gut! If it doesn’t cause an effect on the viewer then it’s worthless! But I like your style. You want to work me, work your ass off!”

I suppose that sort of counted as good advice. Everyone expects too much of me all the time and when it doesn’t happen, Miss Misery or depression doesn’t even have the decency to knock in my door and she rapes me.

Shards of water began to invade my window. I stood beside it and something inside me began to crumble and cried for no reason. That was until someone saw me.

“He doesn't like to be caged,

he's full of rage,

he doesn't like to be caged.”

I turned around and found no one.

"Are you sad?" said the voice of a little girl.

"You again," I said as I attempted to hide my face but I kept sobbing, "What do you want?"

"You keep ignoring me, that's what."

"You're not real, you're just the reflection of someone who died here."

The girl pounded the ground, "Then if I'm not real why can I do this?...."

The rain outside began to slowly color the window in crimson red and it flowed like blood. I grew disgusted and came away. The bare sight of it scared me when I realized it was only a dream.

I was back in my workplace and I was curious to analyze one of my paintings, Rabbit Monster. Sadly it became stained with my own blood. I had ruined my own work that very same night I was visited by the Black Rabbit.

I said to myself as I threw my hand at my mouth, "God, what am I going to do now?" I touched the parts that became affected and to my surprise I felt something deep inside like a sting in my hand. Curiously the spots began to fade and dried.

"This has to be a dream, it's definitely another stupid dream..."

"The next time that happens just touch the surface..."

Someone else talked back to me.

"God, I must be running out of my mind, maybe it's because I'm heavily medicated. Dammit."

"You're not alone, you're mad and so am I thus we're all mad here..."

I covered my face in desperation and sighed heavily

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Need any help?"

"That's alright but you're more than welcome to have some, I always make too much."

"Alright, I'll join you although it's kinda late."

"And speaking of late I keep waking up at random hours, do you know why?"

"Mostly sleep disturbances, are you sure you alright you know after all you've been through because mourning can last for quite some time

http://9gag.com/gag/4558681

"No I'm the one to blame."

"Do you like that"

"What, oh, that, yes of course."

"I know how badly you want me but the truth is you can hardly have me."

"....Why do you say that?"

"Because it's in my nature. I am like the White Rabbit, I know everyone follows me hoping that I will take them far away to a land full of wonders or even fulfill their biggest dreams."

"I, never thought of it that way..."

"That tale is more than what it seems...it is about desire, of you can't have, the forbidden, I mean. Thus, the rabbit is smart, cunning, swift. What he lacks in strength makes up in wits. I will confuse you as a means of defense but never hurt you."

Time went by so slowly and I was beginning to get uneasy and simply go outside. Edie suggested I should stay indoors until my body was completely restored.

I can't blame her, I was the one to blame for my negligence and working late but how else was I to achieve something so captivating; my creativity had gone dry since my last failed relationship. Some experts claimed that even I was doing drugs

That night I went horrible thirsty as if I had been in a goddamn desert for days so I quickly stepped down into the kitchen.

Strangely I began to breathe more easily; I wasn't completely cured but I stared into the dining room I noticed a very unlikely figure at the head of the table. In a flash I was surrounded by shadows; only the two of us remained, me and a prostitute

*********

It was raining very hard that night and as it kept falling I started to feel a slight disturbance and began to shiver. Edith, on the other hand tried to comfort me.

"It's not cold," I thought. She threw herself all over me and from what I believe she was asking to have some action but I was at the point of exhaustion I could barely move a muscle.

"Come...are you alright?" she asked.

"No..." I said. "Not really..."

"What's wrong then?"

"I don't know..."

Edie, as I liked to call her gave me a tight embraced and kissed me. "Try to get some sleep and we'll see how you do in the morning." She gave me some pills to help with the fever I was going through but it didn't help much.

I didn't bother to look at the hour but it must have been around 3 AM when I vaguely remember going downstairs to the studio I had where I drained myself everyday to produce interesting works of art.

I was in the middle of something truly interesting. I was asked to produce a set of twenty two paintings which were to be done by November. Only one needed the finishing touches. It was the stylized figure of a red rabbit with the inifinite symbol on its forehead. It was something I did entirely in automatic mode, not really planned yet most of the other acrylics had this element in common; a fixation.

A sort of humming noise was coming from this area and I tried to figure out what it was but when I finally gave up I threw myself in the big leather couch and sank into a deep sleep.

After I woke up the scenery had changed completely. I wasn't sure if I was caught inside a dream or a hallucination. I felt as I was being dragged to an operating room in a stretcher. Hard lights were hitting me and I heard voices babbling nonsense.

"Almost there, almost there, just keep breathing, you're doing fine..." At this point they seemed more like moles with giant claws jamming needles in my arm. Finally when I was inside the room they began to scrutinize every last inch of my body and there was nothing I could do to stop them.

"Edie, where are you? Why am I here?" I kept shouting but no one seemed to care.

"Just breathe, sweetie, you're gonna be fine..."

I was back in the house. Apparently it was a bad dream after all.

"What are you doing down here?" asked Edith a bit upset.

"I was having trouble sleeping, I feel so sick right now I can't think straight."

"Don't worry, you're not alone but honestly I think what you have is serious."

"Alright."

This is the part of my life where I experienced the most pain but it was a lot

------------

This wasn't a very pleasant moment in my life but it is worth telling because I felt like I was born again.

It happened upon November last year. Among other things Edith decided to move back with me and she happened to land at the exact place and time because I felt truly vulnerable.

And just when I was about to shut the door Edith came back like nothing at all. She never promised to stay with me forever, we had our own careers to take care of.

---------------

"I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention, what did you say," I asked.

"Are you alright?" said Edie.

"I...I don't know but I'm really tired, it's been days since I haven't slept well."

"Come here...oh no..."

"What?...."

"You look pretty sick, you're burning up, it's no wonder you were disengaged. I'll take you to your room."

"Thanks, you are a blessing but I don't wanna bother you or anything."

"It's alright."

---------------

"Edie..."

"What?"

"I can't sleep, something's wrong..."

"What's the matter?"

"I don't know..."

"Let me see...you're trembling, are you feeling well?"

"...no."

"

APATETHIC, unimpressed,disengaged that's I felt at the end of the year.I was sleeping less, eating less, fucking less, less and less of everything.

Autumn was just around the corner and for some goddamn reason those months always make me feel blue, not to mention that the weather shift ruins my system. It also meant that it was a rather busy season for art shows

Little did I know that the series of events which would take place soon and bring chaos actually meant a rebirth more than a punishment.

I was currently living by myself in what was left of the mystical magical side of Soho

----------------------

"Edie..." he said while he was struggling to fall asleep.

She barely answered, "What's the matter?"

"I don't know..." said Adrian moaning. "

----------------------------------

Adrian was feeling very disengaged that night. Not a single word was strong enough or relevant enough to keep him awake. Deep inside he kept thinking, "I wish I could wrap up this as soon as possible." He hadn't been sleeping well for days and at the point of exhaustion since he had a rather important event coming along

This is a disturbing part of my life.

It all began one Friday afternoon. I rushed back to the house struggling to avoid the nasty weather in Manhattan; it was pouring like there was no tomorrow.

When I finally arrived home I was at the point of exhaustion and completely lost track of time. Edith who always earlier than I did was lost watching some old movie in black and white.

I didn't bother to say hello I just threw myself in the couch and moaned deeply.

"Oh..." she said, "did you have a rough day?"

"Tell me about it," I answered. "Now was not a good day to drive, it's practically chaotic."

"Welcome to the neighborhood."

"Hey, I should be the one saying that!" I cried, "Anyway, it's good to be back."

Sometimes I like to play the part of the hermit to return to the basic things that make me up yet I went up to Chelsea to see about an upcoming gallery for my latest show. It was planned to take place on December and it was almost finished.

"Am I glad to see you..." I said.

"That's it, whatever happened to I missed you, I love you, you know that dorky stuff people say?" she said playfully.

"Oh...I'm sorry,

---------------

This is a disturbing part of my life.

I didn't bother to explain why I left the party so soon. Inside I was crumbling and realized I needed a long break so I went to bed completely exhausted.

It could have been because I had such a long week in which once again I was given the opportunity to have a solo exhibition and come back to the spotlight as one of New York's premiere artists and the finest of the decade. It had been rather easy for me to achieve quick success and notoriety for using rather unorthodox and eccentric methods to create lavish almost naive works of art. Inside I kept thinking that there was no need to worry about a single thing because virtually all was right at my fingertips.

What I was heavily concerned about was as silly as it sounded was to be healthy enough to embrace the busy schedule I would have within the next weeks. I claimed that the weather shift in the last months of the year ruined me no matter what I did. This particular time it hit me worst. I thought, "Not this again, for the love of God, not this again..."

I wrapped himself as much as I could and completely forgot about the notion of time.

Edith had noticed however I had been acting strangely all week. I was constantly waking up in the middle of the night for no reason. She also noticed I started to lose interest in almost any conversation we had together.

After awhile she decided to join me upstairs. I was half awake half asleep.

"Hey there," she said trying to cheer me up. "How are you doing?"

"Terrible, " I moaned.

"Why, what is it?". She hugged tightly. Afterwards she came back with what seemed to be a small amber container.

"Here, take these..."

"What's it for?" he asked.

"To help you bring down your fever of course," she said. "You know, sometimes I think I know you better than you know yourself."

I just nodded making small talk, "Thank you but I honestly didn't want to get sick."

"You can help that, can you? Let's just hope you feel better in the morning, alright. You've been under a lot of stress, sweetie."

"Tell me about it...anyway, it's done. I just need to rest awhile, that's all."

It seemed that this would be another painful and long night, I thought to himself. I found it hard to get to sleep so I slowly went downstairs where my studio was located and in here is where I felt more peaceful.

Curiously when the sun came down it was an unexplored territory. It grew silent and it seemed like I was trapped inside a haunted house. The temperature dropped so quickly and I began to shiver like anyone would.

Yet here was something different that night. Although everything seemed to be in its right place I had encountered an unusual sound not being made by any of the instruments I had. There were hardly any clocks because they made me grow anxious and killed my inspiration, the laptops were shut down as well so was this sound coming from?

"You handsome devil, you," I said. Upon a shelf I had a large cage where I kept my beloved critter, my rabbit Scraps. Usually he was calm at these hours but he began to jump repeatedly so I took him out for a couple of minutes.

No, he wasn't the one making that noise. It was more like an old rusty fan from a factory. I closed my eyes and shook my head, "I must be hallucinating...I really need to get some shuteye."

The sound began to get more intense and followed by something else that was humming. This never happened before...even so I decided to return to be by Edie's side, safe and sound.

"Don't leave yet..." said a childish voice.

After I turned around there was no one around; the voice had faded away but my surroundings grew colder and I was starting to get weaker and weaker. The fever came back and went down on my knees.

"I need you, everyones does..." said the voice again.

I began to pant and cough severly until I lost consciousness. I couldn't get out of that room, I just couldn't. That sensation had hit me like a tidal wave although I couldn't recall what happened next.

A few days later I believe I woke up in the hospital finding Edie by my side offering me some kind of comfort. She contemplated my frailty and it moved her as if she was almost about to cry.

"Hey, there...you're awake," she said softly and caressed me.

"What happened?" I asked.

"Well, um..." She paused. "I had to bring you here since I figured out you were getting worse. What were doing downstairs that night?"

"That night?" I said, "Wasn't that yesterday?"

"No, honey, you had been here for more than fourty eight hours. You were left in observation to make sure that it wasn't anything serious..."

"And?"

"It turns out to be that you have a bad case of pneumonia and you'll have to stay here for a few days."

"Gawd...I can't stay here forever, I have so much to do..."

"Adrian, listen, this is like a wake up call, you have to take better care of yourself. It's just a consequence

I was not able to enjoy anything lately, anything at all. I felt disengaged, apathetic, uninterested

I closed my eyes and think, I hope I can enjoy my solitude, I close my eyes just to be sure there's not a thing...

I must be losing my mind

Abandon all reason at any costs, no reason, no rhyme , no time to visualize the pain

I must have had the craziest dream.

There I stood lifeless against the mirror. I ran my hands across my body and felt my stomach; I noticed it was redidsh like sore even. As I did this I heard some background music, something I haven't listened  to since college

Suddenly smiled back at me in a malicious way. It was then when I woke up having the sensation it was a nightmare and it has followed me with slight variations. I was my own worst enemy.

"And now how do you feel about yourself?" asked Edith.

"I like self abuse," I said with a slight pause, "You see, it attracts people..."

"Quite frankly I don't see how that is satisfying, to pay such a huge price for fame?"

"Sometimes I have to, it's the only way," I said.

"Quite frankly I understand that you tend to attract broken people like Daniel."

"Why do you keep bringing him up?"

"Because obviously you had something together..."

"Yeah,something is not enough...you see um, he scarred me. Mentally and physically. He tasted every last inch of me but I did't let him drain my talent."

"Do you still love him?"

"Ha," I laughed nervously, "he was not a lover