Every day zooms by like another step whenever I walk. Not much thought is put into it, yet I stick with the stagnant routine. It is something you accept without thinking of any questions. Hell, if you can think of any stupid questions, you will probably get ridiculed or disowned. The only answer you can ever hope to get is "What the fuck," with the absence of a question mark. If you ever think of any questions with "What the fuck," being the only answer, I suggest to simply stop. They are meaningless. They do not serve a purpose. Your time and energy is better spent leaving it alone. What I will say is that I have asked myself many times over if there is anything meaningful out there that needs me. If I can serve a purpose for something with value. If I can see my name on something I can have pride in. I say I have not found such a thing. Perhaps the answer is "What the fuck."
I look out through the window of this cafe. The size of the place was decent enough. Not big enough to be a full scale restaurant, not small enough to be a cramped hole in the wall. It was simply fine. Though that being said the seats were spread further apart than other places and that is something I find appealing. Cannot stand the conversations from others that leak into my ears.
From my glance across the cafe, probably half of the seating was occupied. All the others seem like young, aspiring people probably aged within the twenties and over judging from their looks. Their eyes glued to either their phones or laptops and their fingers dancing in front of them. All are soaked in their own little world they have become a part of. Trapped and indulged in their small, enclosed communities they have become accustomed to. They expect that through whatever they are doing on their devices they have the power to make...something. Or perhaps something greater like becoming a leading figure of a useless movement. Or cater to the pointless interests of their peers. Or perhaps something as simple as having their ego fed.
Whatever it may be, I have nothing to do with it. Already realized that I am nothing special. When will the day come that the others realize they are nothing? That what they stand for so strongly will bring pain not to others that walk among them but to themselves? Will they ever reach the same conclusion I have? That I am not special and neither are they?
As my frail mind was running frantically, I was snapped back into reality by the piercing sound of a police siren from the streets of the dirty world outside.
"Dammit," muttered to no one but myself.
Thinking about the world around me in such a pessimistic manner has not helped in the past nor now so why should I bother doing it? Perhaps it is a reassurance. To silently judge your surroundings routinely can improve your perception, so a friend of mine has said. I would say it may be nothing but a waste of energy. He obviously said it to comfort me. What a nice guy. But it does not matter. My surroundings remain unchanged. It has all become too familiar. The only thing I can do is leave it as is.
Finished the last remaining sip of my now cold black coffee. A disappointment how the enjoyment I get out of it is easily ruined because it was left alone for too long. True how all good things come to an end. Just some things take more time than others.
Got up from my seat and made my way to the exit. Ready to breathe the spring air from the currently sunny world outside. Away from the heavy atmosphere of the cafe. A shame too. Best cafe around this area. Just having difficulties having to see so many others there.
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Been two hours since I got out of that cafe. Did not feel like making dinner so I got some ready-from-the-warmer pizza to eat at home. Not having a car, my main use of transportation is by walking. Second is the train.
Owning a car is too much for the city and having to pay for gas, insurance among other shit that piles up with the job I have is just not worth it. The streets always crowded like sheep being herded. Just too damn filthy. Do not want to be a part of it.
Standing in the dim underground of the subway, waiting for the next train to come. At the current time of this day of the week the train should not be full. In the station a total of five others are standing alongside me. Going to wherever they got to go for whatever the reason may be.
Nice having it not full. Not just from the crowding but having to be next to anybody is enough to make me feel uneasy.
"The next train to arrive is for 59th Street," the artificial announcer said through the speakers.
Finally, the train can be heard coming from the distance. A wild screech making an impact into my ears. It comes into view with its lights flashing towards myself as it slowly reaches to a full stop. A scene that I have witnessed countless number of times and many more to come. Normally I would wait for the door to open and ignore whatever advertisement that was plastered on the side. This time though, it caught my attention. Was not the flashy visuals of flowers and various shapes that were splashing upwards, nor were its usage of colors used in its entirety that can brighten the world away from its true shades, nor the exaggerated girl whose empty smile looks at though it was pulled violently by an unseen puppeteer. It was the slogan, "Make your dream a reality" that got me. Turned out to be an ad for some college.
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Dream. That is nostalgic. Used to have a dream myself.
The doors to the train open. As the few others from inside step out, me and the other passengers take their place.
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The air of the night is cold and crisp. A sensation I have grown fond of. On the balcony of the apartment I sleep in. Six stories above the ground and a view of the glowing city I am a part of. Fueled by the others who surround me.
Times like these are when I take out my usual smoke. Slipped into my pocket as I grab out my pack of cigarettes.
"Another day," I utter to myself quietly.
Took out the first one I was able to get my fingers on and stuck it in my mouth.
"Nothing..."
Putting the pack back, took out my lighter and burned the cigarette. After taking in a mouthful of the smoke, separated the cigarette from my mouth and gently blew into the air in front of me. The haze fading away in a matter of a few seconds. The relaxing feeling sets course through my body as I repeat this motion until the end of the cigarette's life. With my last blow I rub what is last of it in the filthy ashtray next to me on my withered plastic table.
Another one of my daily activities is over. Nearing closer to the days I work again. Pathetic having to do something you hate for five days of the week, looking forward to the two days you can waste time with leisure only for the vicious cycle to continue. Perhaps by chance there is going to be one thing that will turn my life around. Just one thing I need.
Turned away from the night outside and retreated back into the indoors of what I call my home. A pathetic home decorated with a week old pizza box on the coffee table, some empty liquor bottles on the drawer. A single source of light emitted from the screen of my laptop.
This sure is the high life. A life I have grown accustomed to. Walking on the planet for twenty-six years and ending up like this. I want to change. I want things to be different. But this is what I have become. Have grown to simply accept it. Not having any big responsibility eases the shoulders, but there is always the feeling that I was told it would be better than this. That I deserve better. That all of this could have been better. What a joke. A good joke, but there is nothing to laugh about simply because the joke is not funny; just well thought out.
Looked over to the couch I treated as a bed. Complete with a blanket that was able to successfully rejuvenate me whenever I woke up for the past six years I had it. Closed the door to the balcony behind as I headed towards the bathroom. Got to brush these teeth before going to sleep.
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Call this part of the house my room but what I have made it out to be is my art studio. My bed and desk were tucked to the walls that have been plastered with numerous pencil sketches, colored drawings and awesome paintings. All done by me.
"This painting turned out to be great!" I yell out to myself as I complete the painting of a majestic forest.
The crisp, green leaves flowing together so smoothly, being held up by the tough, yet gentle bark, flowing down to the sprouts of the grass as delicate as emeralds and the nutrients of healthy dirt. The streaks of the sun's rays making its way through the gaps between the leaves, and it was nothing short of breathtaking.
My name is Rob. A young child painter, soon to be at the top! My future to become an artist that will go down in history will soon become a reality! I am so excited~!
"Oh, Robby! I knew you could do it!" I heard the voice of Mother praise me.
"Rob, boy! You're going to make it! I can guarantee it!" Father joined in along with her.
I was showered with praise. A promise for a glowing future. I can make it. I had to stand up. Release my energy. See the world. Just run outside with joy. But just as I did, my surroundings were flushed away. Drained and soaked into the ground as I realized I am no longer in my familiar room. What I am in the presence of now is a green, lush meadow. My parents were gone and in their place was someone familiar.
"Elizabeth?" I call out.
"Well, aren't you going to show me your new painting?" she asked in her innocent voice. A girl the same age as mine, same school as mine, and a precious friend of mine. Her hair of ebony flowing with the wind and her azure dress almost bursting with radiance.
"I would but I left it back home."
"Then take me to your home, silly. I want to see it!"
"Alright then! Calm down. Here, let us get going. It will be great. You will not be disappointed."
But that cannot be true... Everyone is disappointed…
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Eyes open to the light of dawn as I am welcomed to the bright world of reality. Stare aimlessly at the ceiling as I focus on the dream I had. My parents were there. They were saying something...and Elizabeth was there... It was a dream. They make no sense at all, so why linger on it?