The Blank Image

BLANK. BLANK. Like a white clear sheet of paper.

Gently and roundly, she rubbed and pressed her side of the brain in a hope to understand it. NOTHING. She takes in a long breath so as not to faint herself. Obviously, they are friends. Good friends to be precise. She doesn't understand why she can't picture him. But why is it like that?

Her mind is occupied with unwanted, irregular and random bizarre thoughts. What happened she question herself? Up until now in her life, its first time that she can't read herself. She knows she'll never succeed in reading it completely but at the least she tries to figure it out. To her surprise, she succeeds in reading her minds and those unlucky times when she curse her mind in developing such stories.

I know how he looks like. But she doesn't.

His features, his newly build maturity in face and his body just above average heighted. That is how he looks like to me when I have to tell someone about him. But for her its just a blank white sheet she explains it is not even lined, you know. I see him but I keep forgetting him. If I close my eyes and tried to picture him he becomes invisible. So at times when we meet, I tried to look closer and well. What he looks like, what kind of clothes he wears but all in vain. The more I tried to picture him, the more blurry it becomes, you know like a whirlpool of thoughts where he gets lost. He is everywhere that she finds it hard to tell where he actually is.