This is something like a work in progress that sort of evolved of a rambling journal I kept during my times stuck in a classroom throughout the past half of the year. In my mind, it could end up as a graphic novel someday. Like i said this is my FIRST post and if it is on the wrong board, mod's please notify me. Thanks
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I: Wake (August 09)
Prying open dry eyes, the alarm clock flashes "6:00 AM," in a vibrant neon green digital font.
"Ah... shit," he grumbles as he drags himself out of bed. He hasn't gotten much sleep these past few days, with work and school piling up on top of each other as the days wear on. The morning ritual has become so routine, he can perform almost all of it with his eyes closed. "Just another day, baby," he says in a near ironic tone while throwing dirty socks in the clothes-hamper.
The coffee is burning hot, with a thin, dry aroma hanging in the air. Joe heads to the shower. It's the same sound every day, the water colliding against the plastic, or fiberglass or whatever the hell the bathtub is made of. A contrast between the stark airiness of the bathroom and the steam from the shower condense a thick fog on the mirrored surface of the medicine cabinet. Joe often grows confused with the thoughts of all modern day luxuries, such as running water, as he looks down at the shampoos and soaps he feels a tinge of guilt. But isn't ever enough to deeply impacts his day, he continues with the routine.
Modern remorse of said amenities aside, he is never all that affected by any outside source enough to impact his days. Because, you see, all or most of the inner turmoil comes from the peace he can never seem to legislate inside his own heart. As he pours his morning cup of coffee, he usually ponders these woes and weights he has laid upon himself. It's almost like a heavy wall that wants to topple over itself, but the breaking point is missing in the cracked foundation in aid to do so. "This coffee is burnt... shit."
II: Afternoon (August 09)
A familiar drone of the air-conditioner keeps me in a reassuring familiarity, humming along and letting my mind "equal out" and relax. I've heard that things like white-noise and such have that effect on people and for the most part I agree, because I find it hard to sleep without something emitting that static background noise to disrupt the total silence. In a way, it's sort of a.. "metaphysical statement that parallels my own lifestyle." Today I've brought a new pen and with it a new attitude. Not necessarily a positive one, but a new one nevertheless. I hear some sort of high-pitched whining sound, turns out it's the voices of a few girls that are a couple of rows ahead of me in class. At first this annoys me, but as we get into today's tasks, it is pushed out of my mind. It's been a few minutes since my last cigarette, followed by a shallow breath. I've found that the smells, both before and after, growing against that of my nerves. Fingers smell of nicotine and sweat, I keep them from my face to avoid the scent. As I grow more accustomed to these people around me, I feel more comfortable. Annoyances now seem to be wrote off, with a growing tolerance of these people.
III: Dusk (July 09)
Time, the time has come as it always does. Sweet and precious, the memories of having memories when you've nothing left to grasp onto. Hearts turned to lock, mustn't I rest inside these flames? Or it could just be as easy as not, or as nothing. They say hope springs eternal, which is true in its own right. It's easy to lose that, and along with it your senses. Blind to the world and deaf to her ears, everything in Terra is just one blink of an eye, Insignificance, ignorance are virtues to some and curses to others. How far have you gotten into this before realizing you have no idea what you were reading? This is my attempt at personifying my thoughts with the sad eyes of the world. Thoughts fade, shade shuts, I need to get out.
IV: Coagulation (February 10)
Today is just like any other, except for the repitious blare from the alarm clock pulling him from slumber, his mother's inherent screaming fit the proxy. A siren fit of the lack of material possession and car insurance, according to her it was time to get it together or "get the fuck out." A fair argument, I'm sure, but half asleep at the rack of dawn, Joe's ears act selectively at will. A prisoner in his own home, he smacks the snooze button, rolls over, and dozes off again into the sanctity or sleep.
The next few day and night cycles blend into eachother, mixing shades and hues of work, school, and smoke from many'a menthol cigarette. As the relationships around him ebb, lonlieness seems ever present. Looming, even. Contact substituted with stark views stuck inside of a digital screen, like has become amalgamated. A long drag followed by a deep exhale, "Life isn't so simple."
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Like I said before, this is all, more or less, off the top of my head and rough around all of the edges. The center character is based off of everything that goes on inside of my own messed up head, but it makes for good writing (the same goes with the music I make).
-pw
