Patent Blanks

10. Thoughts With Deeper Impact.

I understand why he left, but at the same time I don't at all. He deserves help, I should probably join him, but I'd decided to do what Roche said I needed to.

It's been some time, I've been working non-stop for about a year or two.I stopped smoking, saved up enough for college, and a place to stay. I'm living in New York City now, I live in a small studio apartment in an older building by myself. I'm surprised I even got the money to afford this place.

The alarm I set to go off at 6:20 A.M. violated my ears, making me blink awake, the sun blinding me as I first opened my eyes. Turning over to shield my eyes from building light, I stopped my alarm. I took a deep breath, sitting up in my bed.

I pried myself off my bed, it was light blue with white sheets, and light green leaf patterned pillows. I silently walked to the bathroom. People say I've changed since Roche left, said I'd been acting bored, near this point I fear I was. Doing two years of eat, sleep, work, and repeat changed me quite a bit.

I'd no one to laugh with, so I didn't laugh at all, I was a shell of the boy I used to be. I was on auto-pilot for so much of it I couldn't describe what even a singular day was like there even if i'd die.

My bathroom was nowhere near dirty, but I always thought my house was a mess no matter what because of my mom. I stepped on my tile floor, my socks saving me from the violently cold floors. My steps were stumbly, for no real reason. I dyed my hair a full colour for once, dark red. A small bit of my roots are coming in, my natural colour is a bluer black.

I looked in my bathroom mirror, face no longer covered in leftover makeup, I let down my longer hair from its bun, and brushed my long bangs behind my ear. I looked at myself in the mirror. This is what I've become, yet I still have much to be.

I reached out for my brush, right where I left it, and I brushed my hair, gently tugging on tangles. As a result of growing my hair out, It's healthier, and doesn't tangle as horribly as it once did.

I enjoy living by myself, but the mornings are so quiet, the nights too. I should be used to being alone by now, but every night I lay in my bed, this empty, anxious pit develops in my stomach.

I can't be truthful in any sense if I say I've moved on. I stare at myself in the mirror again, small tears dripping from my eyes. I wipe them bewilderedly, finishing my hair hurriedly.

I couldn't cry then, I had to be okay to get through college. I walked to my wardrobe, sighing, and grabbing the outfit I picked the night before.

My style had changed more from emo to casually grunge, so I just grabbed an oversized green t-shirt and an undershirt that was grey. I shuffled through my jean drawer, finding baggier jeans, then my sneakers.

I quickly grabbed my satchel bag I've used since highschool. It's a black bag with a piano print on the closing flap. I bought it at the mall with Roche and Xiao.

I swiftly walked out my apartment door, making sure to lock the old paint peeled front door, the stairs of my building creaked loudly as I took quick steps down, somehow, not falling.

My apartment was only a block away from the University, so I hastily made my way to the school, nervously walking to find somewhere to chill before classes start. The school looked clean, and there were people everywhere. I regretted not putting my hair up, since my hair hit my back every step I took.

When class started, I knew exactly where to go so I could get a spot wherever I wanted. After I took a seat, a large wave of people came in, taking up most of the seats.

A girl with light brown hair with pink streaks walked in the room when the professor was about to close the door.

"Hey.. Sorry I'm late.." She said to the professor, who just nodded at her, and told her to sit down. She examined the room, playing with the dangling piece of yarn on her sweater, then walked to my table, and smiled. "Can I sit here?"

"Uh- Yeah go ahead." I said, stumbling over my words.

"I'm Tojiko Kokoro, who are you?" She asked, unpacking her stationary supplies onto the large 2 person desk.

"Emile Aoki-Rozelm.."

"Aoki? Are you Japanese?"

"Yes, my.. Father is.."

"Cool! Me too!!" Her cheerful demeanour was refreshing, I hadn't had a real conversation in such a long time. In the past few years I hadn't met anyone due to the autopilot thing. It was good to meet someone new.

The downside to being alone with nothing happening for 2 years is that you forget your social skills completely, my skills are nonexistent.