audacity // kryoz

four

Oh my god. I can't even remember his name. What was it? Daniel? Dominic? Dylan? David! That's his name, David. Ugh. I can't believe I agreed to that. What was I thinking?

I unlock the front door to my apartment huffing. Knowing that I'll be leaving again in a matter of minutes, I don't bother to lock the door. Dropping my keys on the kitchen counter, I stalked to my room. I pull my phone out to look at the time. It was 3:00. Fortunately, my forced date is at 8 pm so I have like 3 and a half hours to do whatever the fuck I want. 

Not wanting to waste any more of my precious free time, I rush over to my desk, pull out my drawer with all my art shit and pile all the stuff necessary to draw some amazing ass trees into my arms. Quickly scanning over the different mediums I could use, I decide on watercolor and watercolor pencils. When used properly it looks so fucking good and besides I haven't used it in a while. Pulling my computer and notebook out and throwing it onto my bed, suddenly I remember my drawing of John and decide to open my notebook to rip it out and take it with me. Silently I shrug my shoulders hoping that if I take it with me then I can figure out what's wrong with it knowing that if I don't it will forever bother me. 

After pushing everything I need into my bag, I place it back onto my shoulders for what felt like the millionth time that day. Just about to walk out the door I remember that you need water for watercolors so I make a quick detour to my fridge and grab the water bottle I've had since my junior year of high school. Opening the fridge reminded that I haven't eaten all day. Fuck. Confused as to what to quickly jam into my mouth, I opened my cabinets and hoped something was in them. Bingo. I happened to see a box of cheese-its that was left by Joy the last time we had a movie night. I grab the entire box and shake it to see how much was left. Almost the entire box was left. Hell yea. Swiftly shoving the box into my bag, I grab my keys and walk out, locking the door behind me this time.

Getting deja vu as I walked down the stairs once more, I made a beeline for the park a few blocks away. It was rather convenient when I ever get the urge to paint or sketch. Halfway to the park, I began thinking of the last time I was in the park. It was the summer, early June and I was painting. I had even brought an easel out here and brought my expensive ass oil paints to try and capture the sky or something I haven't painted before. I had everything set up but then mother nature had decided to fuck me over when a huge gust of wind knocked over my easel onto the grass. I remember screeching so loud that many people came over asking me if I was okay. I started to chuckle to myself, finding it funny how distraught I was over a silly, quarter finished painting. When it happened I wanted to quit art right then and there but luckily I didn't because I don't know what else I would've done. Without realizing I had spaced out that much, I looked around to see I had made it to the park.

After searching around for the perfect tree to sit under and finding it, I took off my bag from my shoulders, threw it on the ground and sat down next to it.

***

Sketchbook and pencil finally in hand I begin to draw a dying flower bed a few feet away from me. I know it's a bit morbid but what else is there? I don't feel like drawing trees right now so this will have to do for now.

***

Focusing on the wilting flower bed, I wasn't paying any attention to the people walking around me and the world in general but I was suddenly pulled back into the real world by a dog. A tiny, little corgi about 2 feet high, had barreled straight into me without stopping making me abandon my sketchbook and pencil. It had knocked me from my hunched position into a starfish on the ground. I screamed quite a bit before I realized it wasn't a vicious dog about to bite my head off. With my entire body now on the ground, I was now fairly certain that there was dirt everywhere on me. I quickly found the humor in the situation and began to giggle. The panting dog that was standing on me began to lick my face and I giggled even more. Not even a moment later the out of breath owner appeared and pulled the corgi's leash to get it off of me. Before I could even get up to look at them they began to spew apologies. About to stand up, I paused. I recognized that voice. Was it John?