i am watari
Saturday, April 21, 2007
I breathed hot air, and covered the glass with a circular patch of moist breath. On the other side, it was raining, and the glass was spotted with numerous droplets of water, combining with each other every now and then, and trickling down ever so slowly to the rubbery edge of the window pane. Yes, it was cold outside, and dark inside, and without the presence of light, it was pretty much a gloomy day. There was nothing to do with everything out like the light bulb that was hanging useless above. Not that I could do anything constructive really, stuck in the school grounds, without a bus to ride on, not 'till a few hours later.
It's boredom, seizure, or something else, and I choose to do something else. Lifting my hand, I started tracing the paths of the droplets making its way on the surface of the transparent sheet, and into the unseen pane. Where I breathed, the circular spot was now streaked with zigzagging lines, and it looked like a veined bald spot. I laughed a little at that, but not too loudly, people would start murmuring again, or even slap the back of my head for being crazy.
I breathed again, overlapping the previous drawing, and many times, I drew something different from the previous one, possibly of no relationship. I think I first drew a star, then a cookie, then a pen, then a moth, then doddles, and then I got bored again at that point. I tried one last time, so with a little spark of inspiration, I breathe heavily on the glass window, and I create a bigger drawing area. Decided on not wasting this on a drawing, I start writing random things instead. Somehow, I ended up writing stupid, huh?, and sleepy numerous times. I'm not too creative, and boredom killed a few brain cells, I think. I fell asleep as the soft dripping of rain from one plant to another, and onto the grass, soothed me to unconsciousness.
Before a weird dream started rolling into view, I woke up, startled by god knows what, and I knew my eyes were bloodshot. It took time before things came into focus, and I realized someone else had taken the previously empty seat to my left. From the back of my mind, I knew this person, but I think my lagged focus time was lagging down my thinking as well, so I chose to shut up and just ogle at what he was doing. From where I drew, or wrote, oodles and oodles of senseless words, he was writing as well, writing over my previous doodle. He garnered the same spot with unreadable words, but even though I couldn't see well, whether my focus still hadn't sharpened, or it was the dim room, I could see that he wasn't writing on one of the spots, the one near the top edge of the circle. I think he drew arrows around it though, but by the time I was trying to decode it, I was shook out of it, and my bus called for me, got home, and fell to much appreciated sleep.
When I last saw that window glass, it was already broken, from some stupid student who threw rocks from outside and supposedly had "accidentally" thrown one into the direction of the old window. Curiosity is a weakness of mine, and I drifted to the same spot again. It wasn't dark anymore, nor was it gloomy, the sun was shining outside, though preparing for its setting, and inside, the aircon was working again, and the lights were strangely ominous, especially where I had decided to plant myself. And looking at the broken glass, it wasn't totally broken after all, just a small hole, and put into the edge of totally breaking, by the looks of that glittery effect coming from the numerous shatter marks on the point of contact. The smudges (which were previously the breath spots made) are still etched onto the glass, looking like dirt patches of mud and swampy water. Some writings were still visible, only a little, but still readable.
Readable was not good at this moment. Surely, it is not. Shock overwhelmed me, and before I even had the chance of knowing who ever caught me falling, which is somehow, vaguely repetitive, and familiar, and.. warm.. I slip into unconsciousness again.
smiled at the sun again @ 8:37 PM,
