Chasing Gavin
Daze at the wall
Shrill cries filled the air as I shoved the heavy door open, dragging the washed-out rucksack behind me. Laughing voices trailed behind me as I sauntered away from the vehicle, bidding me adieus and good-byes. I carried on with a little nod and a weak smile upon my lips, pausing for a while to watch the white, depleted bus whiz away from me. It departed, as the quavering voices did so.
I rammed the gate open, causing the hinges to give out a sharp sound as I pushed the entrance. The round, tiny pebbles crumbled under my heels as I made my way towards the door. Rummaging through my pack, I searched for the house keys to get myself in. Reaching under the pile of tomes and yellow-colored papers I found the set of keys and jolted the door open. I gave out a sigh I as my empty house welcomed me...again. Never was there a day in a week that I haven't arrived into my house that has nothing but furnishings, and one, living, home alone creature: me.
My pack dropped to the floor with a thud, as I kicked my shoes off my tired feet. I ran a hand through my messed up hair and made my way towards my bedroom, the place in which I wonder about my thoughts during my sole instances of dreaming, imagining, and make believing. It is where I create the dramatic pictures of my own trances, reveries, castles in the sky, and visions of sugarplums, pretending that they're real, rather than imaginary. That world is so far-off; it felt as if my head was drifting away from my consciousness. With that, I simply plump down my swivel chair, and right before me was my drafting table. It was time for me to re-invent my world.
The soothing sound of the radio played raucously in my ears, droning away with the sound of rain in the background. I stared blankly at the table before me, brimming with paintbrushes, pencils, pastel sticks, and crumpled pieces of paper. Upon the parquet were jars and jars of water varying in tints: red, blue, gray, and black, muddling with the piles of books, gargantuan and small. Walls and walls of posters stared down at me like still paintings, gawking and waiting for me to grab the unadorned pencil. Their large eyes seemed so real, that it made me think that they blink every so often. That matter gives me the creeps.
I wanted to create another hero, or better yet, a different super villain of some sort. Like an enormous mecha from Gundam or Eva, I fancied to make a modern machine, with sleek bodies or heavy specs. It could be another Van Gogh or probably a Monet. You'll never know... it simply comes out right after I start grabbing for the pencil. But I wanted to draw this Soujiro guy or even Okita...they're subjects that pretty much impress me afterwards.
So I reached for the pencil and began scribbling, forming motivating figures out of the lines, be it straight or curved. Outlining the details with my waterproof drafting pen as I envisaged its prospective outcome. And before I knew it, there it was: Souji Okita in his blue, Shinsengumi uniform, ready to crash and rumble with his Kikiuchi Norimune katana in his hand.
Depicting pictures with my pencil is one of the things that I am fond of doing, but I prefer calling it creating my castles in the sky. You know, almost like creating visions of sugarplums, reveries, trances, and delusions. It makes me feel as though as I have company...in my silent, hushed, and muted world.
Even so, after that matter, I would soon find myself trifling through the keyboard, trying to find something of interest in the exhilarating, yet dodgy world of the net. I would stare down the monitor, until my eyes become sore and red, because of my stubbornness for straining them for hours.
Still, no one's arrived to fill my silent house in. The door gawked at me emptily; marking the obvious signs that nobody's in the other side to ring the bell. And if there were any, they just come and go...arriving to eat, sleep, then wake up to leave afterwards. It's pretty exasperating, but this kind of existence is one thing that I have to live with, and most importantly, I have to learn to love it.
So the next time I open the door of the school bus, the next time I wave back at my friends, the next time I enter my empty house, I guess it'd be better to keep the smile upon my lips. It's healthier to put myself into a better situation, considering the circumstances. After all, it's better to wait for the doorbell to ring, and to see somebody at the door...rather than sulk in my room, dazing blankly at the wall.
