Un.
He draws eyes everywhere. In all of the pieces of paper he gets his hands on. He passionately draws each work with as much with as much detail as possible , but seems to be never satisfied with any of the ones he does. He stares at them, wonders if they mean anything to him, he just draws them as if it was already of second nature. A ritual that he's been practicing for weeks past. Starving for the perfect pair of eyes he could bare from his pen.
He doesn't look at anybodyelse's eyes as a basis of what to draw, it just comes to him as he sets his pen on the paper.
He often fails in satisfying himself for his search for those perfect pair of eyes that he seems to be searching for a reason he couldn't think of.
His spare filler, hidden in the way back of his binder, filled with scribbles, erasure of his failures that he keeps on scribbling on, trying to undo his mistakes.
He's reminded of whatever he has left in the range of his reach whenever he attempts to open the filler. the things that hasn't abandoned him yet, or as he thinks hasn't.
He remembers the past, the good times he's had,the times long gone,the times he wishes, prays, and prays to come back,yet he already bares the knowledge that they will never come back, never.
Haunted by the nightmares the brought him into this state, he keeps on drawing those things that hold no meaning to him or anyone.
The time's changed, everyone's moved on, everyone that he entrusted his life upon, they've left him in a place to wait all his life, clinging on the promise that they'll come back, someday.
Remnants of the past that surround him, crashes in and chokes him until he wakes up to the reality that he's asleep in that single place that keeps him from taking his own life. That place where he was the happiest he's ever been, now infested with parasites yet he still remains, holding on his hope that they'll come back.
"They'll come back, eventually. They promised they would. I did all my promises to them, I'm sure they'll come back. They will, they promised.." He keeps on telling himself these words. Doing his best not to think of takign his own life.
"That would make them sad..", he tells himself.
"Or would it? Do they even know I'm still here? maybe they've forgotten about me already and abandoned me."
"NO!! They promised they would! I'm gonna wait!!".
It echoes throught the empty, abandoned room that used to be filled with life and happiness, but now seems to be like a dark, cold, lifeless box that keeps him in until he dies in it.
He ponders on his thoughts, thinking of what'll happen when they come back.
If they come back.
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