her | chaennie

V: beauty in ruins

have you ever heard of a greek myth with the name of pygmalion of cyprus? a king and a sculptor who fell in love with his statue of a perfect woman, galatea.

the man was a misogynist, but not when it comes to this woman carved from ivory. what made her so different that the moment he stopped chiselling and stared at the perfection before him.. pygmalion who clearly stated his disdain for all females, fell deeply in love?

because he shaped her into the image he desired. innocent, lovely, and pure. someone he had authority over. a woman he couldn't find in the actual world, and even if she did exist in reality with a mind of her own, who's to say she'd want or love him?

who wouldn't want that, right? you get to customize your perfect girl. it's like playing sims.

however, reality doesn't offer this.

as much as jennie hated the narrative, she couldn't help but feel a connection to it. she is every bit as talented and driven as pygmalion.

roseanne was, after all, her muse.
the contents of her sketchbooks,
the faces painted in every canvas.

the moment she glanced at the blonde, she had this mental image of her, like a blank piece of paper to be filled with things she loved, qualities she sought in others. she looked at roseanne through her pencils, her paintbrushes.. like art that she wanted to turn her into.

she fell in love with the idea of who roseanne could possibly be for her, rather than who roseanne really was.

and when roseanne couldn't live up to the image jennie had of her, jennie despised herself. there's nothing more painful than confusing your imagination for reality.

then came the fights, screaming, hurting, threatening. disagreement with values, huge differences with priorities and future plans. no one wanted to compromise so much.
and each time the image and fantasy gets distorted, they hurt one another.

she loved roseanne with her mind, not with her heart.

but what about roseanne? was her love real? jennie wanted to ask, she wanted to call. but it was another ache she didn't want to experience. because, whatever the answer was, hers surely wasn't genuine and she didn't want roseanne to tell her that she's a terrible person.

deep down, she knew something didn't click. she should've realized it when roseanne talked about the future and she couldn't imagine it with her.
she should've known when the thought of losing roseanne terrified her, and yet she still let her walk out the door.

she realized the only reason she clung on was fear of the future, of what would happen next in her life. roseanne was just another person who conveniently had plans even for unexpected events.

she was constant.
she was safety.
she was failed art
but she's not jennie's path.

jennie needed to get over that fact.
she needed to get over roseanne.
but mostly, she needed to get over herself.

the artist gently laid the book down and pushed herself off the couch. she made her way upstairs to her studio. once there, jennie grabbed a 24x36" white canvas and set it on the easel stand before gathering the rest of her materials.

for months of doing nothing, disconnecting from life, and suffering alone.. she was now ready to paint again. she was eager to tell the world how she had fallen madly in love, how she had been wrong all along, and how it had caused them so much heartache.

and how it changed her.

jennie took a slow, deep breath and exhaled it through twitching lips. she went for the brush, fingers shaking but determined to create the most searing art anybody has ever seen.