i don't know what it is with me. i'm suddenly nothing. i hate it.
sometimes, i just feel like nothing. they're like mood swings, but i don't show it. i'll just stay in the house and do nothing. like i am.
it usually happens when i'm alone for too long. i think a lot, too much, then i go to sleep and wake up as nothing. i ignored the messages on my phone, staring straight out. my eyes stung with tears from the lack of blinking, and i let them fall apathetically.
i did my usual as throwing the same baseball up and down, up and down.
i found myself in a trance with my actions as i lifted from the floor and hovered over to my canvas. it was covered in dust. i never had time for my passion anymore, as my job is my passion. sad, isn't it.
my hand picked up one of the brushes hesitantly, staring at the blank slate that was my canvas. the curse of a blank slate, an artist's worst nightmare - but also their best friend.
i quickly felt a surge of energy rush through me, and i was painting feverishly on the canvas, my tongue bleeding in my mouth from biting it so hard.
i heard my phone blowing up behind me, but i didn't care. it wasn't even there to me. i wasn't even here to me. it was just like the canvas was painting itself.
i finished the painting in a remarkably short amount of time, stepping back as my chest rose and fell quickly. the dirty brush fell from my hand, undoubtedly staining the dark oak floors. i luckily had help setting up my room again, so my photos were just the same. unluckily, my roommate wasn't going to be home for another 6 months. she left rent behind along with her half of the bills, so i was all right with it.
my eyes widened, and my pupils seemed to dilate in realization as i rushed for my camera, slipped on my vans and ran out the door. i already had on an outfit and a snapback, so i was all right actually to go out in public.
i ran through the street, instantly becoming claustrophobic anytime i had to pass with a crowd. i didn't know where i was; i was lost without hope. no phone, no method of communication. well, probably a payphone somewhere. if those are still a thing anymore with technology evolving. i'm still using a polaroid camera for fuck's sake.
i walked around, taking pictures of whatever i deemed worthy. i took this one picture of the outside area of a restaurant, but it was focused on two tables back by back. on one side were an old couple, laughing, and the other was a young couple doing the same. it just shows how love is love, no matter the age.
the young couple reminded me of someone. i couldn't put my finger on it, though.
i kept walking around the city, doing what i had exactly done before. i felt like the world was happening around me, and i was a mere spectator. i loved it.
i loved feeling like i couldn't be seen. i loved feeling like i was nothing. most people hate feeling like nothing because everyone has that desire to be... something. i guess that's what makes me, me.
adjusted the cap on my head, preparing to walk through the biggest crowd yet. i took in a huge breath of air and practically charged through, but still not giving myself any attention. once i go tout i was blue in the face, but i kept going.
the city was unfamiliar to me now, but i was just going straight. my mother would always say, "when you go for your little walks, just go straight and right. that way, you'll always find your way back home."
i crossed the crosswalks absentmindedly, almost getting hit by an uncountable amount of cars. seattle must be packed with shit drivers today.
i entered a small store i found interesting without even realizing. it was worn down, graffiti all over the brick that was between it and another store. i took a few shots of the art before going inside the warehouse which, to my pleasure, was a music store. the walls were lined with records, the other lined with guitars, everything you ould ever want.
i rushed outside of the store and took a picture, writing the address in the small space at the bottom. i had to explore this spot much more. it had to have some history.
the neon signs coating the walls gave me somewhat comfort, like no matter the intensity of the dark there was always a source of light in that little shop.
maybe i'll take josh here one day.
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a/n: i kinda felt like i'd do a chapter with 0 dialogue, don't ask why. also, is it just me who can relate to the feeling like nothing thing?
also, the media. because josh in a suit.
