Poetry in Motion

02

There was something always disjointed and patronising about the social worker that Arthur visited. He didn't much like visiting her, even if he was obligated to; but she'd sit, she'd pretend to listen to him, she'd write down things he'd say into a file for records sake, and she'd just let him sit and smoke away and talk as much or as little as he'd wish to.

It was usually more the latter, a few sentences here and there, that was all. The people that he did spend time with, didn't exactly take him seriously; which of course, when working as a clown for hire, was sometimes part of the deal. However, how clued in with everything around him he was, Arthur didn't think people tended to give him credit for how much he paid attention, and how much he knew.

However, the one thing which the older woman would always seem to ask him, was if there was anyone else for him to talk to. Arthur couldn't talk to his mother, Penny Fleck had her own problems, and failing health, Arthur looked after her. She needed him, yes, he needed her in part too, of course he did, she was his mother; but she worried about him as it was, when how she was, it was his job to worry for her. He couldn't unburden himself on her, his thoughts weren't always sanitary or nice. If she heard him speak truthfully, it would probably destroy the woman.

The people at work, other than Randall and Gary, no one else seemed to pay him any attention. They looked past him, as if he were invisible. Arthur wasn't invisible. He was very much here, and those three people, four if he wished to include the social worker, all had their own reasons and motives for talking to Arthur, but none would truly listen to him.

Arthur had a voice, and it was being ignored. Being ignored wasn't fun, it was horrible. Being ignored added to the feeling of being invisible. In a city of hundreds, thousands, Arthur was just one more person swept up in the tide of the hustle and bustle and whoever he walked down the street with, cared little to not at all about him.

Cities could be such lonely places, no one else seemed to wish to admit to such loneliness; yet Arthur sort of lived with this every day. He never fully felt included within the society in which he lived in, and he could admit that; even if it was a footnote in his journal. The thing with loneliness was, that it didn't need to be a physical thing, a quiet space of mind was as daunting and harming as being denied basic human contact.

Did Arthur want a connection with someone? To have someone notice him, pay him attention, genuinely listen to him? Even he didn't know. At times he thought he did. But then, the thought of being too honest about how he felt...sometimes people don't like to hear the God's honest truth, because the truth could be blunt, hurtful and really, it could be something that couldn't be handled well at all.

But and this was quite a big one, a major one, loneliness and his own headspace sometimes drove him to certain situations which perhaps wouldn't be undertaken by someone of say, a sane mind. Arthur wasn't insane, he wasn't crazy, he just struggled. But it was a struggle which was kept barely under control by medication. He was surprised he didn't rattle with how many pills he took a day.

The situation in which he soon found himself within was that of high curiosity over his neighbour. He had stood near the keyhole of his door and watched as Imelda walked past, more like stalked. The woman looked like a cat stalking and readying to pounce on an unsuspecting mouse. Her chestnut hair was pulled up in a single tie, Arthur rather liked the colour of it; it was such a rich colour, lighter auburn streaks seemed to travel through it too as she passed his door, it bouncing in the tie at the back of her head. The colour matched her eyes, Arthur was anything but extremely observant, they were a more chocolate colour, warm, inviting even...

Once she passed his door, he quietly opened it and listened as the elevator quietly dinged and she disappeared. Arthur moved quickly, and quietly. His mother was asleep still and he just left the apartment. For all she knew, he was working today. He wasn't. He could've done anything with his day off, but here he was watching and observing Imelda. She seemed to permanently walk around with a frown on her face. Such a serious, severe look, it didn't suit her round face and small, petit stature, she looked like she was readying for something, Arthur didn't know what.