Blue Howard (boyxboy)

Five, four, three, two, one

I have done all my homework, and am actually ready to bury myself in textbooks, because then my mind will be occupied. I am all in for it. I don’t want to think. I need things to cover up the problems and the mess.

I get my bag ready and throw it over my shoulder. Jocelyn is doing her make up in the bathroom, when I yell goodbye, and she wishes me a great day. It’s like we’re siblings, looking out for each other.

The walk to class is tiring, and I like it. I will exhaust my brain before it can make stupid decisions, then again, I won’t be quite alert in class, ready to answer questions I’m asked, or want to answer, but at least I won’t have time to think.

It’s good.

No thoughts are good.

I’m counting my steps as I go. It is quite satisfying. I’m surprised.

I open the door for some girls. They don’t even thank me. Somehow I don’t feel good about trying to be nice. If they don’t notice it, why bother? I walk a couple of feet behind them, then they turn to go to the library, I keep going.

The stairs make my legs hurt as I climb them, but I reach the third floor, and there’s familiar faces. The professor greets me good morning, and I reply with the same.

I sit down at the desk I have always been at, and search for the things I need. Just because I still have time, I open the textbook and decide to read this lesson’s chapter again. Do I have my homework with me? I check my notebooks just in case and smile to myself when it’s there. It’s great to be on track.

I stare at the clock and count the seconds. Let me just count the seconds; one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight...Someone brushes against me as they pass. I ignore it. Eleven, twelve, thirteen...I hear the professor talking to someone; I don’t take my eyes off the clock. Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen...

I want to go back in time. I want to reverse it.

Seventeen, sixteen, fifteen, fourteen...Forget it all. Forget all I ever did. Ten, nine, eight, seven...What if I could? What if I could forget it all, forgive it all, move on, or rather move backwards. Would it be better if I started over? Three, two, one...

I breathe in and out. I am aware of my breathing. I let the moment linger, seven seconds I take just to be there, in that ‘now’. And the bell rings.

I look at the door. I stare at the door. I don’t let my eyes travel anywhere else.

Five, four, three, two, one.

Again, five, four, three, two, one.

The professor doesn’t start the class. He’s waiting.

Five, four, three, two, one.

My eyes go wide open, as there is a familiar face at the door. He is nervous standing there, he looks lost.

My knuckles go white from grasping the edge of the table.

“Are you Evan?” the professor asks, and he turns to him. He is confused, but then he nods.

I keep holding on to the table.

“You’re the new one, right? ‘Tis your first day?” he continues, inviting the person to come in.

He nods again.

“Don’t worry. I heard you learned all the previous things on your own,” he gives the new guy some kind of slip of paper. “You’ll do fine.”

Why is he so friendly? He’s never friendly with me, rather cocky. Why is he suddenly genuine and worried? Why doesn’t he worry about me?

I can’t.

Five, four, three, two, one.

No, I can’t.

I stand up from my seat, and before anyone can say anything to me, I am out of the doors.

I hide in the library, reading books. I’m forcing words down my throat; I am forcing my eyes open and reading.

This can’t be.

I am trying to let go of the past, but the past follows me even here. Why is he here? Why couldn’t he stay where he was? Now I have to see his face. I keep reading. I breathe in, I breathe out, I make breathing a job to do. I concentrate on inhaling and exhaling. If nothing else can be done, I will try not to think.

Five, four, three, two, one.

Evan can’t be here. What is he doing here? Why is he here?

Five, four, three, two, one.

I need to paint, now.