Never knew life could sometimes take such a horrible turn. Where it could destroy your peace, your will, your hopes and.. yourself.
My life was perfect. A small loving family, supportive someone I could kill for. Then that one day.. everything crumbled right in front of my eyes. Something I never imagined.. something that could only frighten me in my nightmares. And just like that I lost everything.
I've lost myself.
Fate has hence brought me to this living nightmare. I suffocate every minute, every second of my life. My life seeks one goal. The goal my soul aches for, the goal for which I burn for. I wouldn't just name it as simply as "goal" . It's a desire. A desire I must accomplish. Only then I could die with a smile on my face. Only then will my life be complete.
I have always been living in the shadows.. Observing. I never had any normal interactions, nor does anybody try. Nor do I care anyways. The only thing that is keeping me alive is art.
I would've gave up long ago if it wasn't for art. It keeps my inner demons at bane.
I am sitting by the window of my class, not knowing how long I've been staring at my sketchpad for. I am at an interesting distance from the rest of my classmates. They think I am some weirdo over the way I present my art. I don't use any vibrant colours, nor the just black painted arts. I use red. Just red.
The recent painting had a beautiful swirl of crimson shades, an overwhelming sea of red. Two figures emerge from the chaos of the brush strokes. One hunches over the other, its mouth wide, teeth bared in a grotesque act of consumption. The figure being devoured has its eyes wide open, trying so hard to break through its clutches but can't. The hold is deadly, it can't escape until it meets its, torturing gruesome death.
This art was shown to the entire class since my professor loved it a bit too much. He understood the depth, yet he couldn't completely decipher it. That painting holds much more depth, much more meaning not anyone could unravel its true meaning.
The class though, and humans being humans. They had to judge the artist. And the artist being me. I could clearly hear them call me names like 'psycho' and well what not?
They can just be as loud as they fucking want. Their words can't reach the depths of soul, as its been clutched by a demon, that soul has been wounded while trying to get out of that hold.
For now here I am again in front of the canvas, my mind swirling to create yet another mess.. A beautiful mess of crimson.
I am tucked in the corner, busy with creating yet another chaos. My brush strides against the naked canvas, coating it with my crimson mess. My mind is being dragged constantly towards that dirty little corner I despise the most.
My nightmares, my demons lurk that corner. Waiting for that perfect opportunity to drag me by my leg. To devour me whole, to suck the life out of me.
"Is he always this fucking dead? What's the matter with him?"
"Who cares? I rather focus on better things than wasting on that lunatic there."
I am thrown back to reality when I hear a faint annoying voice of these pests human beings. They can't mind their damn fucking business for a second. Never had a moment where they can't keep their asses to themselves.
Anyways back to the present moment. Rather than succumbing in this corner, being a supposed "disturbed" crazy lunatic. I pack my belongings covering the canvas with a white sheet, then stride straight outside.
Even though these students suck up the place in these hallways, it's still empty for me. The fog in my head accumulates my vision completely blurring out the crowd I am walking through
"Watch where you're going fuckface"
That deep voice brings me back from the state of oblivion. My gaze meets those sharp ones. Which reflects nothing but the determination to give birth to absolute chaos. You'll find hundreds of these here, honestly nothing special.
"Cant hear me motherfucker?"
He grabs me by my collar in a harsh grip, gazing down at me with those eyes which says. If I dare speak back he'll punch me to the point my brains leak through my skull.
I have nothing to say anyways. I am not here for some mere pathetic pests like the one standing in front of me. They just look for a reaction to threaten you and all these jackasses could ever do is try to mould you into their puppets.
"Want me to punch some senses into you? To bring you back from that shithole"
He growls so close to my damn face, I can smell those darn cigarettes. But as expected of the mother fucker he backs off, shoving me to the side.
I roll my eyes ignoring how that coward motherfucker just decides to walk away. There are a bunch of jokers in here. This university runs on mafia errands. Each one of these student guardians have connections with the underworld. Hence they think this college is theirs to run. They own it. Since I survive on scholarships I get treated as a pest which makes their skin crawl.
Speaking of ownership. There is this one narcissistic fuck who thinks he not only owns the college but the students here. He walks like one of the kings. Has tendencies of a damn demon. Can say he basically rules this university. His dad is the one who funds this university the most.
There he is, sitting on the throne like the so-called king he is. He is the kind you don't want to piss off. While this man has that playful charm, which makes him seem friendly at first is just a facade. He hides much more than he shows, much more twisted tendencies. Mayhem runs in his veins. His smile speaks destruction in its own messed up language. He is known as the god of university. These little fucks would go as far as licking the ground he walks on. He has the kind of demeanour, of wanting to own things he sets his sights on. He would go as far as burning anything to ashes, only to own.
Theodore Rodriguez. Or Theo as most people address him. Nobody would ever want him to set his attention on. He is much more destructive than he seems.