❀| Doki'ed Dump [Doki Doki Literature Club]

Muse

rm - tokyo

sorry for not posting in so long. life got in the way and i kinda of went into a hiatus because i had zero motivation to write anything. this is somewhat filler, but i hope it's at least decent. i might make a sequel with how ambiguous the ending is, but i won't make any promises.

...

Monika's life is monotonous, to say the least. It's not that she's boring, however; it's not that she doesn't stand out. Quite frankly, she stands out too much - in class, in her circles of friends, in everybody's mind - and Monika, Monika seems to be the apple of everyone's eyes. 'Gifted, talented, a child prodigy,' they'd all said. Her parents would always nod along approvingly, proud of their daughter's outstanding brilliance.

So no, that's not the reason why she's, well, bored. Besides, Monika isn't always, 24/7 'bored'. She still feels, can still smile or laugh or cry or yell. A small, amused smile always forms on her lips when she meets someone new. Whenever something particularly pleases her, she claps her hands together, eyes clenched shut, the corners of her mount turning up in a blinding show of teeth. And she feels the emotion flowing from each action, each little burst of feeling flowing through her veins and seeping into her bones until there's enough sentiment for her to mean it.

Her 'bored' is more of a general discontent. An overall dissatisfaction with life. Not exactly stemming from a thought of not having enough, for Monika's actually unbelievably grateful for whatever comes with being born with a silver spoon in her mouth, for she thanks the heavens every night for all she already has, but from, from....

Okay, so maybe she does feel like it's not enough, whatever life has gifted to her. But, she doesn't necessarily want another toy, doesn't exactly yearn for new clothes, nor anything of those likes. What she feels is missing is not exactly touchable, but still very much achievable. It's... it's an emotion, a sentimental sort of thing that, if she's given a pen and paper, she'd be able to write out a poem with a thousand metaphors to describe it all, those sensations and thoughts that occasionally fester into her mind from this passion, or better say, lack of it.

Simply put, she wishes she had a motive. A drive. Something that keeps her toes pointed, keeps her from diving back under the covers so suddenly on a Sunday morning, keeps that ink flowing from her pen as she fervorly scribes whatever philosophical phrases she's come up with onto her treasured notebook.

Sure, her parents are the reason why her grades are so hard to knock down. Sure, her friends are why she's extra attentive to her surroundings, emerald-green eyes picking up on and analyzing even the littlest of details, just to make sure they're all comfortable and happy, that nobody's trying to hide anything. Sure, everybody else with their eyes on her is the cause of her being constantly mindful of what she says, what she does, what she thinks. But, if what her art teacher tells her is really true, then they're not truly her motivators. Not... not her source of inspiration. They don't exactly, really ignite a burning fire of vigor inside of her, just serve as painful reminders that people are watching over, anticipating the eventual triumph of the smart, talented, perfect girl. Or maybe her downfall. Monika knows there's such thing as bad people, and with all those individuals she'd already and is going to meet, it's not too far of a stretch she'll eventually come along them.

She still remembers that faithful day in art class. Her teacher is a young eccentric man that sometimes speaks too quickly and more often than not babbles on about things nobody really understands. Art projects are always nonsensical with him, ranging from making sculptures of obscure landmarks using plastic straws to animal masks out of paper bags and cheap cardboard. But on that very day, he had only the simplest of tasks for the class to do.

"I want you all to paint absolutely anything you want," he said, his smile seeming to only grow larger at the confused looks of his students. "This painting should be something special to you, something that invokes the deepest of emotions in your very body. There is always something or someone in our lives that we hold so close to our heart that the feeling itself is like power, power for us to take control and direct us to our purposes. This feeling that shapes us to be who we are, that tells us to push forward no matter what, that gives that finishing, personal touch to everything we create, and why even do, that feeling is sparked by a muse, and every true artist has a muse, no matter how common or ridiculous that muse is. So, paint! Paint whatever your heart desires! Paint whatever your muse inspires you to."