Post by dominic on Apr 15, 2009 19:42:32 GMT -5
in the middle of the day when the sun is aching and i try to make my way but the sidewalk's breaking
WATCH ME SLIP BETWEEN THE CRACKS
as i fall and fall and fall and i wonder where i'll land if i ever land oh there's your hand, so incredible
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A young man sat on the glowing green grass, a notebook in his lap. His hand held a charcoal pencil, stroking the paper with interest. Dominic stared at the paged, his mouth relaxed but a smile brimming in his eyes. The young man had been spending his day near the campus lake, trying to bring peace to himself. It hadn't worked yet, but he was hoping that drawing would help bring his mind to rest. He hadn't really been able to relax since the weekend; not since his mother left with the gardener. Wasn't it original? The rich middle-age mother of two leaving her family with the Spanish flower tender? At least he thought so, he thought it was sad and yet funny; mostly sad though. He'd laughed about it at first, he thought his father was joking, then the laughing stopped and he knew it was true. The boy had seen it coming, just not so soon.
His face had become rigid as he thought about what had happened. A sigh came from between his lips as he let go of the breath he'd been holding back. Dominic shook his head vigorisly, hoping to remove the ill thoughts from his mind once and for all. He just wanted to draw today, not think about the dirty gardener stealing away with his mother, his hag of a mother. A snicker left his mouth as he thought the insult. If only he'd gotten up the courage to tell her that to her face before she'd left. That would've been a sight to see, his mother's face screwing up in anger, his father and brother holding back their laughter. She would have exploded in a rampage of profanity if he'd done such a thing. Maybe that was he'd never said that to her.
Finally, he let go of the thoughts and focused on his drawing. The swans at the school lake had quickly become a thing of his interest. They were always graceful, true masters of beauty. Even though they were born average, sometimes ugly, they always grew up to become gorgeous birds of great strength. His hand moved across the page as he drew their shape, the slow curve of their heads and the simple dipped tips of their beaks. The small family of birds floated quietly among the water, as if they knew that they should sit still. His gaze flickered up long enough to take in the small swanlings that were gathered around their mother, sitting so still they looked like they were in a deep sleep. Perhaps they were, or maybe they were posing for him, surprised and flattered that he had decided to draw them as well as their mother. A quick smile fell on his mouth as he began to sketch their small forms on the pad of paper.
Dominic took a short break, stretching his fingers and setting his things down on the ground beside him, next to his messenger bag that held everything he would ever need. A quiet ringing could be heard from it, but he ignored it, knowing only too well that the only people who ever called him were members of his family, people he didn't want to talk to at the moment. The young man tugged at his shirt, only now noticing that it had risen up to reveal his abdomen. A small chuckle rose from him as he stood up. He bent down and reached for a small skipping stone. The young man rubbed the surface with his thumb, staring at the cool blackness of it. He then tossed it, aiming far away from the family he'd been sketching, hoping he wouldn't disturb their bubble of serenity. If only he could be submersed in that bubble, maybe he'd finally calm down. His father had suggested he see someone, maybe a therapist, just someone to talk to. He'd turned him down completely, saying there would be nothing to talk about. Maybe that had been a mistake, but he didn't quite care at the moment.
The boy sat back down in his spot and resumed his previous activities. There was only one way he could clear his head, and that involved a drawing pad and a pencil. Here it all was, now he just had to try to be happy for one. A quiet moment fell upon him as he worked to finish his drawing, brushing the pencil against the thick paper, picking out the details. A slow smile crept up on his face as he drew one then two then three baby swans, the ripples of water streaming out around them. Maybe it was possible for him to forget the horribleness of the weekend. If only he could find a never ending amount of swan families to draw. There wasn't anything else to wish for at the moment, besides maybe someone to listen to him and to act as if they cared about his pathetic problems.