Thinking and Taking Notes

I dislike intrusive thoughts in my head. It might sound crazy but the thought of it makes my mind go numb and then I get all these flashing images in my head. They always puzzle me about why should my mind tell me what I should think about. I know, undoubtedly strange for a girl to think about that, but what was even stranger, I kept thinking about my weekend and what was about to happen. Not that I wanted anything to happen, but the thought of being alone with a man petrified me to the fact I kept thinking about it. I bet it had something to do with my mother and what she said. A good match, she said, and after that, my mind was a whirlpool of 'what ifs.' Silly of me, I know, but the blasted mind works in ways I sometimes wonder, why didn't I become a doctor to study the brain?

Of course, my father would freak out if he knew I had thoughts about other careers, in both ways. He would be extremely sad and happy. I can't say which one is pulling at my noggin right now. They both sat equally in my mind.

Okay, I got this, I chided myself. I inhaled, and froze my mind out for a little, looking anywhere except reverting into my mind. I closed my eyes, and warmth came out of nowhere. Suddenly, the flashing in my head got a little tense. Blood, fire, a dead body, stained bloody hands. But there was one thing that I saw. A painting. It felt as though it was mine. I was beginning to freak out, the painting looked so dark, almost like something from it was haunting me. I made something to make me want to run away from, how disdainful.

I was frozen to the spot. I couldn't move, only seeing my hands, and looking up with my eyes only, I could see the dreadful painting coming closer, like something out of a horror movie. My breathing became erratic again, and I felt dizzy with a shortage of air.

I don't want to see these things, yet I do. I felt the need to move my fingers against the canvas, and the moment I reached out, a dark sharp claw clasped onto mine cruelly, pulling with all its might, digging into my skin, staining my hands more with blood. Was this my blood or someone else's blood on my hands? I started screaming and thrashing around, trying to find anything that could remove the dirty hand from mine. Fighting for it to be off, the sharp claws dug deeper into my skin, and a whisper came coldly close to my ears, and in that one whisper came a frightful revelation, I cannot leave here unless what is at play here wants me to.

I couldn't move where I was from. The last thing I remembered I was sitting on a bench, how did this turn so creepy so quickly? The whisper came all around me now, whispering the same thing over and over, making my head hurt, spinning with the crazy thoughts and the inner troubles that I have been having to cope with. With one ear-piercing scream for everything to stop, the whole place paused all movement, and the hand retracted, and what seemed like a haven, sunshine protruded from the darkness and I found myself sitting on the bench once more.

I realized I was sitting too long and not moving, so it was about time to make a compromise. I have Arts right now, and the subject haunts me to go back to the class, even only to sit. How do I fight what is keeping me here, and open my eyes, to see the bright sun again, and the small details I pay too much attention to?

Come on, you can do this, I coaxed myself. I was almost halfway through the darkness when I finally screamed at the top of my lungs and furiously scratched away the hand that was gravely bigger than mine and vanished. I saw a flash of light and a small whisper that seemed to tell me something but it was too late to listen.

What happened next made everyone around who was scattered momentarily frightened. I found myself a few centimetres off the bench I was sitting on. I was falling when my eyes finally opened, and the scream came out loud and piercing. I fell, hitting my hand on the bench, and pain resonated from my foot that I fell too quickly to save myself. How did I reach from sitting on the bench to being above the bench? What really is going on? Deciding to stay in class, I picked up my stuff and rushed out.

I made my way up the stairs just as I had not so long ago, yet the fear was there. There were other students in the hallways so I felt safe. Some were putting away books and skipping classes, while some talked with other students. I start my escape and for as long as I know myself when something is about to go bad; I make a break for it.

Sighing and shaking my head, I turned on my heels to make a big dash when a cleared throat and a stern, deep voice stopped me in my tracks. Standing in the middle of the hallway was my art teacher. It was Mr. Lou. He has a scowl on his face, and his looks tell me not to move an inch. smile a stiff smile, and he coldly told me to follow him to his office.

"Young lady, you have been skipping out of my classes. Care to explain yourself?" He asked in a rather calm tone. His expression and his sound did not match.

"No, I am not ready to come back yet. My hand is still healing. I am trying." I wanted to explain more, but his look told me to stop talking. My fingers were trembling, and my knees were buckling even though I was sitting across from him.

"You are only in the theory classes. Don't tell me you have given up working on your unfinished projects. You should try harder." He coaxed me, with his two fingers gently touching his chin, a classic teacher lecturing move.

"I know. Things have not been getting easier for me going back into that classroom." I said, without looking at him. Telling him what happened to me might just make me feel like an idiot afterward.

"Lucy, you don't need to be in the classroom to find inspiration. Look around you. I am sure there are other influences." He said, trying to find solutions as much as he can. I could see it. I wasn't the only best student in his class, but a good one.

"Professor, I am trying. I was hoping to join the class real soon." I said, hoping my voice as sounded confident as I wanted it to sound. My feet were shaking less, and my breathing was normal, too.

"You don't understand it yet, do you? What bothers you, Lucy? What do you feel is holding you back?" He was now stretching his leg under him, sitting straight and looking squarely at me.

It took a surprise when he said this. I didn't think I was holding myself back, but now that he mentioned it, I did not want to believe it. Was I holding myself back?

"Lucy, inspiration does not come from people nature, or life. It came from different beings. Open your mind to absorb all around you, your hands with your eyes, close them, and work your fingers for at least an hour." His voice held expertise, and a known pain in it, which made me look at him even more. He turned sideways now.

"How do you know it will work? What if it just hurts me more?" It intrigued me to know if it can cause long-lasting damage. It would be unfortunate.

"You won't know unless you try. It happens to the best of us, but you see everyone. If you feel you cannot handle this, then you need to move on. Why would you burden yourself with something you do anymore?"

"You said beings. What do you mean?"

"I don't think I heard you correctly," he said with furrowed eyebrows. His eyes even widened, as though he wasn't sure.

"You said inspiration can come from beings. What are you talking about?"

"I meant in the instance of someone or something. You need to set your mind to do what you want. You have been in slumber for quite some time." His words now did not hold the intensity they had only a moment ago. He looked dazed.

"I know, professor. I was hoping to catch up on the theory classes. I am not ready to come to the room just yet." I pleaded with twisted hands that were now sweaty with nervousness.

"Well, these are my notes that you missed. You can copy them and bring them back. Knowing very well how talented you are, I hope the best for you, Lucy." He looked at me once and shook his head as though he was grieved by what was happening to me. He operated as though he understood me more than he led on.

"Thank you," I gifted him, and I was getting up to make my way out.

I have been in absorbing mode, thinking he might allow me some slack, but I learned something from him. I think it is about time that I gathered myself. I would start with the notes first. As much as this would be a pain to complete before the weekends, it might give my mind something to think about and berate my mind from too many depressing thoughts.

I noticed lunch came about faster, and the conversation around the table soon died because of my lack of attention. I kept zoning out, thinking about how much work needed to be done. Yet we must comply with one hour, and we must eat something for lunch, and scan orders, so we can have our back nutrients, so we could study longer and better.

"Hey Lucy, when will your mom bake again?" Juno said as he plopped down in the seat across from me.

"I am not sure. Would you like me to ask?" I knew he was soft-hearted when he got the sweetness in his mouth. Otherwise, he is bitter and a little teaser, too.

"Yes, that sounds great. I know she only baked yesterday, but her work is amazing. It would be nice to have some more." He smiled, showing his teeth, and moved closer to Mika, who has not said a word yet.

"I can always help her if it coaxes her to make more treats for you. Sorry, I have been zoning out. I just got my notes for my art class, and it is a lot," I explained and turned to Mika. She looked up now, and she greeted me with a smile.

"You want to know a trick? I would set a cold drink down on a coaster every time I need a break, I would take a sip, take two deep breaths, and rub my neck. It works since you keep relaxing your body." Mika explained what she did, and it did not seem so bad.

"You have that zoning look on your face again. She told me the same, and it worked well for me. Why don't you try it?" Juno said, and I was surprised. They were in sync once more.

"You know what? Maybe I will. Now that you two are talking like you used to, have you guys made up?" When I leaned closer to them over the table, they pulled back on the seat, looking pale in the face.

I suddenly giggled when I heard two loud groans coming from across the table. Mika rolled her eyes and Juno hid his face in his hand. I guess they made up!