The Portrait

"You're looking at me" I whispered as I saw the portrait that most call perfect. That seemingly perfect portrait is actually a curse I've brought to life with my blood, sweat and tears.
The strangest night of my life was the one where she visited me in my dreams. I was living through the worst art block I've ever had in my 15 years as an artist. This made me feel frustrated and hopeless. Exhausted from searching for something to inspire me, I tried looking for some sort of vision in my dreams and went to sleep. This was my first error.
  In my dream, I was in a pitch black room in which I felt as if though I was aimlessly floating around but at the same time I felt like i was falling into the abyss. I was lost. This was, until an almost angelic light illuminated the room. I instantly raised my head to see where such splendor came from. to my surprise, it was a woman with an indescribable beauty. I could only really see her for around 10 seconds but it felt like hours had passed.
  Immediately after, I woke up with pale, cold skin and an anxiety I'd never felt before. I had only seen the woman for a short period of time but it was enough time for me to save her beauty in my memory. "I have to paint her" I said to myself with an agitated voice. After that, my desire to paint her turned into an obsession to do so perfectly. That was my second error.
  I spent almost a year trying to get my painting to perfectly reflect the outstanding beauty that this woman possessed. After painting the finishing touches I exclaimed "FINALLY" with a victorious tone. I couldn't believe I had succeeded. That was truly my best painting, it still is and it always be. Finishing that painting was my last mistake.
  I was so in love with that portrait I decided I should hang it in my living room. Exactly three days after, problems arose. I could feel the woman watch me and follow me. There was a day in which I caught a glimpse of her walking around my house but she was different. She didn't have that angelic glow from the dream anymore. Instead, she was completely surrounded by darkness. This lasted for a total of five months. I thought I had done good by creating this lovely portrait but i was wrong. For five months I was tormented by this thing. I've now locked myself in my studio in attempts to hide from her. I think the only way I can save myself is by killing myself. I'm writing this letter in hopes to save whoever finds this painting after i die. I'm terrified. I think she's found me. I hear knocks on the door. Farewell and good luck stranger.