"Love me," she said, "just love me, and love me and love me." Each new face she turned to a blank canvas she wished to paint upon the expressions she desired to see; admiration; adoration; acceptance; affection. She turned to each new person and said, "Love me. I'll create a wonderful face for you. Love me, and I'll make you happy." She took her brush and her paint and colored in all her feelings, her hopes, her desires, but as the paint slid upon the blank canvases the edges began to blacken; the blank faced persons turned away; her paint, while lovely, burned through the canvas of their skin, withering the smooth surface to a puckered, smoking crumble. "Oh dear," she said, "I did it wrong... the smile should have been wider and the colours more bright." Then she turned to the next face and said, "Love me..." the person turned and again she saw a canvas of potential, "Love me," she said, "Love me, and love me, and love me, and I will make you happy. Love me, and love me, and love me..."
Stroke, stroke, each color, each bit of wet paint gliding upon the surface, she executed every detail with perfect precision all the while saying, "Love me, love me, love me. Love me, and you will be happy. Love me, I'll show you what happiness is." stroke, stroke, "Love me..." The face reflected what she desired, the canvas filled with all she wanted, but the face, now completed, turned away. She lowered her brush and watched in bewilderment as the person with a wonderful, happy face walked further and further from her. "But wait!" she cried, "I gave you such a wonderful face! Love me...." The face turned back slowly and a smile slid across the surface, "Thank you," the person said, "you are a skilled artist. I will certainly find happiness now, because of what you did for me." then the face turned away once more, and continued walking. "But that's not what I want," she said, "I just want you to love me."
Rain began to fall, conveniently replacing the tears she herself could not shed, "Oh dear," she said, "I did it wrong... next time I will do better."
She turned to yet another face, "Love me," she said, "Love me, and love me, and love me. Only you, only me, just love me and nothing else. Just love me and I will paint a magnificent face for you. Love me, and you will have all you could want. All you want is me, you'll see."
Stroke, stroke, each color, each line, every caress her brush laid across the canvas was inspired, beautiful, falling perfectly in place. "Love me," she said as she painted, "Love me, and love me, and love me." a smooth stroke, a short stroke, "See? See how beautiful your new face is? I will paint exactly what you need. Just love me..." but as she painted the canvas began to dissolve, the paint was too caustic for it. "Maybe I just need glue..." she said, "Don't worry, it will all be perfect. Just love me..." the person began to clutch at their face, shying away from their burning skin, "Shh, shh, hush now," she whispered, pulling their hands gently so she could continue to paint, "Don't worry, it will be beautiful. Just love me. Love me, and love me, and love me..." She pulled out some glue from her pocket and dipped her brush into it, spreading the sticky substance across the surface, pulling the unravelling pieces of the canvased face together, muttering about how perfect it will be. The rain continued to fall, the paint continued to burn through, the edges refused to stay the way she pleased as the person withered and burned, all the while with her saying, "It will be okay. I'll make it okay. Don't worry, I'll make it perfect," until all that was left was a tattered heap. "Oh dear," she said, "I did it wrong... glue doesn't work in the rain, I guess. I'll get it right next time."
She wandered from person to person, each time painting a marvelous face, each time failing to keep it for herself. "Love me..." she said, desperately, "Why won't they love me? Just me? Just me as myself?" As another painted face crumbled in her hands she whispered, "Why can't they love me? I made this face for them..."
She found another face, and another, and with each failure she said, "Oh dear... I will make it better next time." And she would search for a new face once more. Blue paint for comforting their pains, yellow to brighten their day, red - a lot of red - for a loving heart; more colors and more colors, each filled with meaningful intention, each imbued with her burning desire, "Love me. Love me, and love me, and love me. Just love me." Soaked with rain completely through her clothes, her hair dripping, the water running down her cheeks, she walked and painted, searching for the canvas that would love her; searching for when she would reach perfection; and she found a new face. This person was hidden in a shadow, so easy to walk by and miss, but she was an observant girl and noticed the person's faint glimmer in the darkness. She took their hand and pulled them into a patch of light, only to be shocked to see not a blank canvas, but a glistening surface which reflected all around it. She peered at the metallic sheen for clarity, but her breath fogged up the surface as the rain created rivulets through the steam. "What is this face?" she asked herself, "I have never seen such a thing..." she used a soft cloth to gently wipe away the rain and fog, but the person flinched away, "Shh, shh, hush now," she whispered, as she always did, "It will be okay. I will make it okay. Just trust in me, and you will love me." The person stood still as she wiped the moisture from its face, and again she inspected the surface, holding her breath this time. How odd, how strange, the face was so easy to miss in the dark because it looked like everything around it; reflecting all the darkness, reflecting all the blank faces... her eyes roamed across the mirror and saw all the canvases around her reflected within.
"But where is my face?" she asked, "I see all these others, and I see this one in front of you, but where is my face? All I see reflected is a blank canvas..." she used the cloth to wipe away the rain from the face once more, "Maybe I just need to clean it again. Then I'll see my face." she cleaned and looked, cleaned and stared, cleaned and... "Where? Where is my face? Am I invisible? All I see are blank canvases reflected here..." In frustration she almost walked away, but a sly, hopeless grin began to make its way to her lips, "But wait, she said, if this person will love me, won't that mean everyone else will as well?" Her hopes, her dreams, her fears, all her desires seized her and she dipped her paintbrush into the colors once more, applying them to the mirrored face. The person shied away again and she stroked the cold surface gently with her fingertips, "Shh, shh, don't worry. I'll make it perfect. Just love me. Love me, and love me, and love me..." Stroke, stroke, "Love me, and I will make it all beautiful. Love me, and you will have all you've ever wished for."
But there was something wrong with painting this face. The metallic surface didn't soak in her paints, and the rain washed them away. She tried again and again, all the while saying, "Love me. Accept me. Adore me." She painted and painted, using all the skill she had, but it would only wash away. "Love me!" she cried, "Love me and then you'll be happy. I promise." The person stood still as glass as the paint washed away, drizzling down to stain their clothes. "Love me, and love me... just love me." She said over and over, painting and hoping to make it stick. She began to be increasingly frustrated, however, as the paint would not stay, and all that was reflected back at her was a blank canvas face in the mirror. Who was that, anyway? She turned to look behind her, but saw no one there. In paranoia she looked all around, but no one was as close to the mirror face as she. And she began to be afraid... "What if I don't exist?" she thought, "What if there is someone standing here, and I can't see them? Why am I not reflected here? That face can't be me..."
She painted and painted... and ran out of paint.
As the rain washed away the last drop of color from the mirrored face she let the brush and empty tins fall to the ground, "Oh dear..." she said, "I failed... I guess I can't get it right, after all." And then she could see, through the rain rolling down that mirrored face, that the blank canvas reflected before her, was merely her own. She slowly sunk to the ground as she realized, that in her desires to paint beautiful destinies for others to create someone who would love her, she had neglected to paint her own blank face, and now there was no paint left. Of course they could not love her; how could they love something so alien, so different, so blank, so empty...?
As her fingers sunk into the mud created from the rain and dirt she almost lost herself to tears, "But wait," she thought, "I can make it work. I can MAKE it perfect!" She looked up at the mirror face once more to see the person still standing, standing still, and in a last, panicked try she grasped a handful of mud and stood, "If I can't paint a face on you, then I will paint a face FOR you!" she exclaimed, "Then you will love me!" Still missing the point, the reason for existence, she stared at her blank face reflected back in the mirror and began to paint with the mud. It was not a colorful piece of art, it was not full of delicacy and beauty, but she painted. "Here is your face," she said to the mirror person, "This is for you, from me. Just love me." Thick strokes of brown, stylized and full of grit, swirled and straight, curved and looped, until her face was blank no more.
She cleaned her hands on her clothes and used the soft cloth to wipe the rain off the mirror person's face once more. She stood closer, closer, so that only her face was reflected in the mirror and said, "Here, this face is for you. It is not my most delicate piece of art, nor is it the most colorful, but I made it with all I have. I made it for you. So, love me. Just love me, and love me, and love me..." As her arms slipped around the mirror person's shoulders, embracing them to be close, she fell through... the person's body was made of mist, and as she looked back at them, to her horror the mirror fell to the ground and shattered.
"Oh dear!" she cried, falling to her knees and desperately scooping up the shards of metallic glass, "No, oh no... but you have to love me!" The jagged edges sliced her fingers, spilling red blood.
"Maybe that's what I need," she said, bemused, "maybe there wasn't enough red... love is red, isn't it?" Placing together the larger mirror pieces, she looked at her broken reflection and painted red swirls on her face, between the thick streaks of mud, "See?" she asked the shattered face, "I painted it for you! It has color now, and it is beautiful. See how I made this face for you? Just love me! Please, love me." But there was no answer from the broken pieces.
The rain continued to fall, mixing with the mud and blood painted on her face, smudging the lines and running the colors together. She held the largest piece of mirror as blood dripped from her fingers and watched as her face became muddled, the designs now unrecognizable.
"Oh dear..." she said, "I did it wrong..." Her heart now hopeless and numb, she stood once more and shambled on to the next blank canvas, "Love me..." she said, now listless and cold, "Love me... and I will make it all better... Love me... Love me, and love me, and love me." and reaching out, she painted a face for them in blood.
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