The Ones Without Faces

I wonder whether it means something to leave out the face of a person in a drawing. I remember that I did this a lot when I was younger and apparently I still do it sometimes. It may be that it’s just an aesthetic choice or an element of mystery for the viewer. Or maybe it’s just mental laziness. Still, it may also be a sign of uncertainty. My best guess is that it reflects a fear of failure but also a need for control over something unknown.

Maybe it’s a reoccurring faze in my life, a style which returns every time I feel I’m on the verge of something big and new and scary.

A time when I know decisions have to be made.

Decisions that cannot be un-made.

A life that has to be lived.

She haunts me. 

In my dreams and in my mind.

She stands in the corner, in front of the door.

In her possession, a long knife, longer than life.

A blade to jab into my back, between my shoulder blades. To steal my life.

No clothes can sheathe me. My naked defence is seized by cloth.

Left to her peering emptiness.

She is the darkness that I fight.

She is my every fear and my enemy.

Faceless and foul.

The judge that I will never trust.

A part of me?