Graffiti Wars

zero - prologue

It was the perfect night to drop a graffiti piece on a building. 

Not cold enough where I'd have to wear gloves while spray painting but cold enough where I could hide under the hood of a sweater.

I'd been planning this graffiti piece for some time now and a beautiful clear sky, with a large round moon, would be the final touch on the experience of presenting my work to the world.

I could barely focus in class today. My leg bounced under the table and my pen spun around my finger as I dazed off thinking about the kind of reaction people would have when they came into class Wednesday morning to see my graffiti on front campus.

Tonight I would be calling out the dean of our university. Probably my most daring piece because I would not only be vandalizing one of the oldest buildings in my University but one of the oldest buildings in my city altogether.

It was for good reason though. There was another suicide on campus. The second one this year and it was only mid-October. Just like the first, the dean said nothing about it. There was no movement toward better mental health. There was no condolence email about the student themself. It was brushed under the rug. Just like any other mental health concern at this prison of a school. 

So tonight I was going to be leaving a painting up the side of the main building at our campus. It was heavily inspired by Banksy's work with the maid brushing dust under a rug, except the maid was our dean and the dust were the ashes of the students who had passed.

It was dark, but it had meaning and it was important.

No point in putting myself at risk committing crimes if there wasn't meaning. Vandalism did happen to be a crime, after all. 

Time seemed to slow down today. It was like the universe didn't want the moment to come and was giving me extra time to reconsider. 

I wasn't reconsidering... was I?

Nahh, I got this. 

I managed to make it through my classes, taking notes without really thinking about what I was putting down on the paper. At least going to class gave me something to do. Once I got back to my room, I was really just waiting for time to pass. 

1 am came to in a slow walk and against my better judgment, I ended up leaving my room a full hour earlier than I had planned. 

Patience was not a virtue. 

I didn't run into anyone in the halls of my residence building. Living on residence in a single room was extremely convenient. I could leave my room whenever I wanted and leave my graffiti supplies anywhere in the room without someone questioning me. 

I could feel my heartbeat in my ears as I crept through campus. I'd never been this nervous for a project, but I also tended to keep to quiet alleys as opposed to the building 60,000 students walked past every day. 

I nearly jumped a foot in the air when 3 students came stumbling up the street before I realized the third was being held up by the other 2. Probably drunk party-goers. 

Really? On a Tuesday?

I hiked my bag further up my shoulder and wriggled my fingers in the sleeve of my jacket. The tips of them were tingling now from the cold. 

Just another minute before I was there. 

The building itself was illuminated by outdoor lamps turned towards it. It was an old building, built in the mid-1800s and looked like a medieval castle. The lamps gave it an eerie look and for a second I wondered how much these walls had seen. 

Bet they'd never seen graffiti.  

My bag dropped to the ground in a thud and I started work, ease setting in as I worked through the familiar motions. 

The stencil was taped to the wall. 

Spray cans were shaken, pointed and pressed to spray. 

Colors were swapped methodologically. 

There was no going back now. The damage had been done.

I had vandalized front campus.