Uncovered - H.S

One. Drowning Silence.

Play "Come Out And Play" - Billie Eilish

This dull morning is going to be, a somewhat okay start to the day I should only hope. The reason I say this is that my thoughts don't seem nearly as controlled nor organised as previous days.

It's like my mind is scattered, like soft rain that dances on the window panes aimlessly in the weathered month that is October. Except the rain isn't soft, it's the reckoning wash of harsh droplets that pelts down just before a storm, my life a constant unknown on when this said storm would begin.

Most of my days are spent hidden at the back of my scheduled lectures, head down and mindlessly drawing observant sketches of people in class, avoiding unnecessary eye contact. These are what todays plans would entail, but the unsettling storm in my mind makes me feel like it might be a different version of the story.

The main reason I draw so much in class is because I like to imagine myself as one of those courtroom sketch artists, like my drawings were of some importance to the different faces I had sketched on the page that day. But I couldn't deny the other reason I do it.

It's my questionable way of drowning out the dull monotone script the professor, Mr Mavis, seemingly drawls out every time I'm in his presence. Another person to add to the list of people who don't like my shy and unresponsive personality traits. This said speech is one of no beauty, but an ugly concept called irony.

He would tell me to pay more attention, in every aspect of the class. It may be about my essays or the people around me or very possibly about his still dull and still extremely monotone script that details specifically on telling me to do better. I would do better, but the lack of motivation I always have takes its irresponsible toll on schoolwork.

I've never liked the confinements of education, but as I've been told it's a necessity for greatness later on, wherever 'later on' may be.

Trying to learn so much in these insignificant classes feels like a twisted yet subtler version of Groundhog Day, this looping cycle of blurred bullshit. My not so passionate goal is to push forward and become 'undeniably successful' but the real me doesn't care all to much about success. When you've been through things bigger than yourself, you yearn to search for things with meaning, things with purpose.

Plus I major in psychology, which unsurprisingly has its downs. Like for instance, I always catch myself being almost too observant of others, how some students brains would tick when they read a difficult question, or how the uncertainty of speaking aloud when spoken too is given away through the clasping and unclasping of there palms. 

However I do happen to take great interest in the subject, ironically only when it's outside of a classroom and forced on to real life. There's something about the realism is someone's actions that's so enticing to me. I'd rather study a real life person and invest in their traits to find out more about them, then write down different ways the human brain works onto a piece of disposable paper.

I've also never been in love, and dating or friendships has never really been on the cards for me like it used too. I've always had this unwanted problem where my stubborn, guarded mind would restrict my path to a significant other, forging restraints around my heart. But I know deep down it's just me being practical in some laughable way- I know I'm just trying to protect myself. Once you let someone in they can leave, so why give them the chance.

I decided a small while ago I didn't want to be loved, because I realised for that you need to love yourself, something that I don't. There's been no one intriguing enough to have my undivided attention, no one I've ever loved in that way so deeply, that if there presence seemed to disappear I would no longer be able to breathe, so why look for something that clearly doesn't exist for me.