𝑩𝑹𝑶𝑲𝑬𝑵 𝑷𝑰𝑬𝑪𝑬𝑺 ☾︎ jmrf [✓]

• 𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑻𝑾𝑶 •

Grabbing a pencil from my set and my notepad, I started drawing, my mind so blank that I had absolutely no idea what the final result was gonna look like.

Which made it only more fun.

[~ ☽︎✫︎☾︎ ~]

Sighing heavily, I tossed my pencil at my desk out of frustration. Of course one line was going wrong every time I tried to make it work, so it messed up the way I imagined the drawing to look like.

The last digit on my phone changed, making it five p.m. and I have to be at work around eight.

Three boring hours left, how fun.

More than enough time for me to get ready and just hang around for a little, giving me the change to make a few more drawings like my book isn't nearly full already.

I decided to finish my first drawing, even though my opinion of it would never get better, really trying to hold myself back from ripping the paper out of my notepad. The satisfaction by throwing it away in the garbage where it actually belongs would probably feel very good though.

Covering my face as I rubbed my eyes with a deep sigh, I stared down at the final result.

I guess it could be worse, but it's not something I'm proud of though.

If I actually think about it, I have like ten other notepads full of drawings, the first one going all the way back to when I was ten years old, eleven maybe.

It's my way of escaping from the world.

I really put my feelings in them, and I write the date down so I can see how much I've changed over time. Not only to see how my drawing skills improved, but also to watch my thoughts and feelings slowly become intenser. An example is that you can clearly see when my depression started. Nobody has ever seen my drawings though, and I'm glad for that.

I see my drawings as chapters in my diary.

Not everyone needs to know how I feel and on what exact moment, at what exact date.

Turning to the time, only an hour had past yet, unfortunately. But it was also time for dinner, the boys eating dinner at the same time every single night. So it would only last a matter of minutes before two of them would batch right in to bring me a plate with their food.

They do the same thing with breakfast time, that way I don't have to go down to get it myself. But it also made it very clear to me that Corbyn told them about the system when we were younger.

The food actually tastes good though, so I'm a little curious to know who cooks in the household. It can't be my brother since he never really liked to be busy in the kitchen.

Turning away from the desk, I let my body drop down on the lavender color covers on my bed. Tate McRae's voice filled the silent air on a low volume the moment I turned my favorite playlist on. I softly hummed along to the song, flinching slightly when a knock was heard on my door. Replying wasn't even necessary, because without another warning the door got opened.

Peaking one eye open, I watched the two figures walk into my room. And having decided earlier that it was weird for me to not know my housemates— I learned their names online.