In Between

The Void And The Canvas

At twenty-two, Abba embarked on a new journey, one that would reflect the tumultuous landscape of his life. Still haunted by the tragic death of his father eleven years earlier, he channeled his grief into his art. His father’s untimely passing had left a void that Abba struggled to fill. Art became his refuge, the only constant in his life. But as he created, the darkness within him grew, inching him closer to depression—a spiral he could not yet recognize.

No longer a teenager, Abba faced the harsh realities of adulthood. Misunderstood by those around him and feeling isolated, he found solace only in his art. His mind was a battlefield, with chaos both fueling his genius and tearing him apart. To cope, he turned to smoking, drinking, and the company of women. These temporary escapes provided fleeting relief but never healed the deep wounds within him.

As he prepared to present his latest art collection, fate intervened, bringing Nola back into his life. Abba had grown and now understood the depth of his feelings for her. However, he was acutely aware that his destructive habits would jeopardize any chance of a lasting relationship. Despite the love he felt, trust was a foreign concept to him, tainted by years of betrayal and misunderstanding.

Before Abba turned twenty-two, he and Nola shared a beautiful but ephemeral moment, seemingly marking the end of their story. This milestone was significant for Abba, as it brought back memories of losing his father—an event that his mind had never fully reconciled. To Abba, his father had been immortal, an unbreakable pillar. The loss during a time when Abba himself was breaking and misunderstood left him with a profound sense of abandonment. His family, who only saw what they wanted him to be, never truly understood him.

Art became Abba's sole companion. He created a piece in tribute to his father, which he presented at an art festival. Though Abba did not attend, the painting spoke volumes. It was bordered with original symbols that, when translated, read, "Your legacy will be for others to follow; I will not follow you, I am you." Despite following a different path from his father Ngoma, Abba's genius was often compared to his father's. This comparison was both a source of pride and a heavy burden.

Abba's genius was on full display, but he felt that his first significant piece was misunderstood. Art, after all, is subjective, open to myriad interpretations. Hungry for more recognition, Abba decided not to hide the darkness within him. Instead, he used his art as an outlet, hoping to infect the world with the pain he felt. He embraced his agony, allowing it to fuel his creativity. This decision, however, had a destructive side effect: it hurt the women who were drawn to him, making him a magnet for doom.

Abba scoffed at the notion of healing through therapy or motivational speeches. He found the idea of therapists understanding his pain absurd and insulting. Phrases like "I understand" enraged him. "What do you understand about my pain?" he would think. He saw group meetings and therapy sessions as pointless and insulting, another futile Western concept that did not apply to him. "What does talking about it do?" he wondered. Opening up to a stranger about his deepest pain felt like a betrayal.

His disdain for therapy was rooted in a belief that no one could truly understand his suffering. To him, seeking help was like getting marriage counseling from someone who had never been married or from someone who had been divorced multiple times. This skepticism kept him locked in his pain, unwilling to share it with anyone.

Abba's art continued to evolve, reflecting the internal chaos and pain he felt. Each piece was a cathartic release, a way to communicate what he could not express in words. His paintings were raw and evocative, capturing the essence of his turmoil. They spoke of a young man grappling with grief, anger, and a profound sense of loss.

Despite his reluctance to seek help, Abba's work gained recognition. His unique style and emotional depth resonated with audiences. Critics praised his ability to convey complex emotions through his art. Yet, the more praise he received, the more isolated he felt. The validation from the outside world did little to alleviate his inner demons.

As Abba navigated this challenging period, he remained determined to carve out his own path. He refused to be defined by his father's legacy or the expectations of others. His art was his voice, his way of making sense of a world that often seemed incomprehensible. Through his work, he sought to connect with others, to find meaning and purpose in his pain.

Abba's journey was far from over. He continued to struggle with the darkness within him, but he also found moments of light and inspiration. His art became a lifeline, a way to stay grounded amidst the chaos. As he faced new challenges and opportunities, he held onto the belief that his story was still being written.

In the end, Abba's art was more than just a reflection of his pain; it was a testament to his resilience. Each brushstroke was a step toward healing, each painting a reminder that even in the darkest times, there is beauty to be found. And as Abba continued to create, he discovered that his greatest masterpiece was not a single work of art.