- four.
Wake up alone
ᴬᵐʸ ᵂᶦⁿᵉʰᵒᵘˢᵉ
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I have a bad habit of plucking my eyelashes out. It's called trichotillomania and it's psychological. I don't know why I do it but I've always done it. When I was eight, it was so enraging, that I cut off my eyelashes with a pair of scissors completely, though lately, I believe I do it when I'm stressed out.
And I am stressed out.
It's the second midterm season. It rained a little this morning but it'll probably get hot later, which isn't convenient for the gigantic white hoodie I'm wearing. I'm dejected, my hair is stringy and I might pass out from exhaustion. I don't remember when was the last time I got proper sleep. My skin itches and that little tickling voice at the back of my head won't shut up and I get it, I should've studied better but I didn't and now it's 7:00 a.m. and I'm bouncing my leg, plucking my lashes out, and gripping an energy drink bottle like my life depends on it because I didn't sleep.
The art club.
Fuck.
The art club has gone to shit. I was already having too many second thoughts about it because I didn't want to teach since I really didn't feel capable enough to do so and now I'm still getting adjusted to the whole being a college student thing and it's exhausting.
I use that word a lot but it's the only one that describes how I feel.
No one has said anything on the art club group chat because, well, no groups ever started. I might remember a picture of someone but that's about it. There were never enough materials or support. It's sad. Why does no one give a shit about art?
I'm too pissed off about my math midterm in like 5 minutes to go on a ramble about the underappreciation of the arts.
Jesus Christ my head hurts like a bitch and fuck, this energy drink tastes like piss.
I'm nauseous.
I scrunch up my nose in disgust as I walk with a tightened grip on the straps of my backpack.
Art club guy. There he is and he's walking towards me. I can't take it much longer. I can't teach drawing. Not when I've got so much shit with work and school and being in front of people watching me makes me fuck up even more. I've been thinking about this so much and this is not a decision that's being taken lightly but a white lie has never hurt anyone and I can't fucking do it.
"Hey"
I tap his shoulder and stop him. He turns to me a bit serious but his brows are raised.
"Hi," He chirps.
"Look, I...I can't do the art club thing. I'd love to, really but...I-I'm failing math and I can't focus on something else. I hate math"
"I'm a math major"
I'm actually a fucking idiot and I should kill myself as soon as I get a chance.
"W-well, uhm...I'm sorry if this is sudden but I...I'm taking tutoring so I don't flunk and it's a lot"
"I could've helped"
"I'm sorry"
"It's fine. I get it. I would've really liked to go to your class"
"Thanks..."
Little silence between us. He's handsome. I like his eyes a lot and I accidentally catch myself looking down at his lips. Why did I do that? What the fuck? The silence is maddening but I'm scanning his face and I...really like it.
I smile.
"Take care"
By next week I'm sitting on a local McDonald's doing homewoek. It's so fucking hot and I've walked so much under the scorching hot sun, I needed a little treat. I was pissed off when I left the place and bumped into my cousin who took my student ID in her hands, read it with that twinge of disgust In her face, dropped it and said:
"How's that life going for you?"
With that bitchy tone and look of disapproval because she chose to dedicate her life to our lord and savior Jesus Christ (metaphor) or whatever the fuck and has now taken it upon herself to bash me for going to college just because she didn't .
Bitch.
But on my way home I'm still replaying last week in my mind and how art club guy looked so destroyed after I lied. Maybe he did want to attend my drawing class after all. But maybe it was also for the best that the art club didn't work.
How does love come? In the movies, it's, it's like a curtain crashing to the stage. But in life, whatever of it is real, it is a quiet thing. Unrelenting. Inevitable.
I don't know why I thought of that. It's too sunny. James city, why do you have to be so fucking hot?
