The Wanderer

Stuck In The Present

Fresh paint and color stained the canvas in front of me. Each shade glistened in the streaks of light that filtered through the blinds of my window. What I would give to smell the morning dew from a nicely kept yard.

The air in my room was warm as the sun peaked outside and heated the walls. Yet despite the comforting atmosphere, I felt cold.

I wasn't actually shivering, yet it's like the lonely night drained away and numbed my soul.

My late night tea has gone cold. Cold tea wasn't that bad though. It still has that smooth sweet taste.

Curse Wu. He was the one that really got me into tea.

I don't drink it too often, but it sure helps on mornings just like this. Early days when I'm pulled out of my dreams and cannot embrace them again.

Instead of tossing and turning for hours, I'd rather make a cup of tea to focus on my efforts. 

It's more of the memories that would flood back with the sip of one cup.

Enough said. If I were to elaborate further to anyone, my thoughts would go somewhere I'd rather not visit. A mindset I have tried to avoid.

Setting my paint brush back into its water cup, I glanced at the window to gauge the time. Mostly because I'm too lazy to grab my phone from the nightstand.

Judging by how blue the sky was and the light seeping through my blinds, I deduced it about eight or nine in the morning. My three pets would mostly be up and moving around by now.

Time always seems to slip away when my mind is focused on my work. Yet it's agonizingly slow when I'm lost in the past.

I spend my time painting or sketching when my emotions try to take hold and immobilize me. I sometimes take time to be with my pets.

I had a dream earlier, hence the paint staining my hands. It still won't leave my mind. No matter how much I spend time with my brush, or the amount of paint used.

Every time it slips back into my conscious thoughts, I end up unconsciously biting the inside of my lip. Chewing on the inner part of my cheek as my eyes moved along with the brush strokes.

I saw my father in this dream. It was at Ninjago City, when it was still being built.

Except this was somewhere else in the city. It was a grass field as we sat underneath a blossom tree enjoying the shade.

He held me in his arms as I held a small cup of tea. I guess I always liked tea...I just never remembered.

I couldn't make out what he was saying. Only smiling and I assumed he was talking to me about random things I myself didn't understand.

It was the warmth of being understood by someone and being able to relax in their presence.

The simmering cup of tea warmed my hands and would inevitably warm my cold heart. I brought it up to my lips and caught a whiff of honey and chamomile.

Then as the warmth filled my chest, my eyes are drawn back to the pool of tea.

There's a tooth floating in my cup.