𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝, 𝙼𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚂𝚘𝚞𝚕 ||Ninjago x Reader|| Slow Updates

Chapter 63: Stuck In The Present

Song quote: 10-20-40
"They think I'm amazing Oh-so fascinating See, they don't understand
Don't know who I am
But do I?
The less you feel, the more you know
A reason to leave me in a cruise control A little white pill to take me back I hope you understand, it's my last resort I've done it all.
Wanted to feel you but I'm numb
Don't even realize who I've become
Little white pill keeps breaking and entering my body and mind."
~~~

Your Pov:
Fresh paint and color stained the canvas in front of you. Each shade glistened in the streaks of light that filtered through the blinds of your window. What you would give to smell the morning dew from a nicely kept yard.

The air in your room was warm as the sun peaked outside and heated the walls. Yet despite the comforting atmosphere, why do you feel so cold?

You aren't actually shivering, yet it's like the lonely night drained away and numbed your soul.

Your late-night coffee has long gone cold. The only companion you have during your restless nights.

Cold coffee wasn't that bad. It still has that smooth sweet taste followed by the light bitterness of caffeine that would replenish some energy.

Curse Dareth and Cyrus. They were the ones that really got you into coffee.

You don't drink it too often, but it sure helps on mornings just like this. Early days when you're pulled out of your dreams and cannot embrace them again.

Instead of tossing and turning for hours, you'd rather brew a cup to focus your efforts to something more productive.

It would probably be a healthier option to switch to tea. You might have if the taste of tea didn't repulse you now. Not because of the taste. You actually used to like tea.

It's more of the memories that would flood back with the sip of one cup.

Enough said. If you were to elaborate further to anyone, your thoughts would go somewhere you'd rather not visit. A mindset you have tried to avoid.

Setting your paint brush back into its water cup, you glanced at the window to gauge the time. Mostly because you are too lazy to grab your phone from the nightstand.

Judging by how blue the sky was and the light seeping through your blinds, you deduced it about eight or nine in the morning. Pixal should be up and moving around by now.

Time always seems to slip away when your mind is focused on your work. Yet it's agonizingly slow when your lost in the past.

You spend your time painting when emotions try to take hold and immobilize you. It's simpler to focus on brush strokes, color values and mixing paint than unpacking pandora's box.

Then when you feel untouched by anything and your mind is clear, your mind is put towards research and finding the solution to your problems.

You had a dream earlier, hence the paint staining your hands. It still won't leave your mind. No matter how much you spend with your brush, or the amount of paint used.

Every time it slips back into your conscious thoughts, you end up unconsciously biting your lip. Chewing on the inner part of your cheek as your eyes moved along with the brush strokes.

You saw Sensei Garmadon in this dream. It was back at the Monastery, and you had finished your training session and lesson.

He had poured both of you a cup of soothing tea from his favorite jade teapot with the golden cracks running down the sides.