In a stark contrast to how I had felt while in my unwelcome mental state, I was eager to get back to college. I was itching to have the conversations that I quite simply cannot have with others in my life. Understandably, I felt the need to tell as many people as I could about my bloody encounter, however few were willing to believe me. I would have had blood coated clothes to back up my story, had I not needed them and thus sent them to the dry cleaners. Explaining the stains away at the dry cleaners was quite awkward, but thankfully the people there spoke poor English, so, much of what I said went over their heads.
When it was time to concentrate, I was not really in the right frame of mind to. During my morning lectures, I repeatedly drifted off to a fantasy world and found myself unwittingly sketching Lucinda. Then, in the middle of my third lecture, I received some unwelcome news, and what made it worse was the lack of detail. Thus, what little attention I had, had on the lecturer, was in an instant lost. I got out of the lecture as soon as I could, and searched for somewhere I could make the calls that were needed. I was challenged finding somewhere on the campus, but eventually found a refuge in a wing that was under refurbishment. I found the words that were then exchanged were not done so nearly as fast as I would have liked, for I longed to know as much about the situation as possible.
I like to keep my drug dealing small, so I normally only deal out to acquaintances that then deal to friends. I like to see faces and hear names, but every now and then I get greedy, and agree to let someone who wants to get in the game work for me. On what is now proving to be a more fateful than thought night out, I cut a deal with this kid called Jason that I somehow knew. I gave him what I could, for him to push on strangers. When he approached me half way through the night to give me my share of the money made, he seemed fairly paranoid, but I was not overly concerned. When he saw the police presence at the end of the night, he got scared. As I understand it, the police had been stopping people as they left the club in the hope of obtaining witness reports of the attack I interrupted. In all likelihood they were trying to find me. Instead of keeping his cool and answering questions, Jason ran at the first chance he got. The police inevitably caught him, and after finding him carrying drugs, sought to fuck him.
I need to find out what he told the police. I had started my day with a weight on my mind, and it seemed to have multiplied as the day progressed. There was little to no chance of me clearing my head by reading a book or such. I needed to act on what was on my mind. The first thing I had want to do was try to contact Jason, to hear his story directly instead of through a third person, but that could not be done. Then, I wanted to try to find Lucinda, though I did feel it a tad stalker like to go out of my way to do so. I hope, almost pray, that I will again see her by chance in the Kensington area. After some musing, I decided to journey to where events had unfolded on my night out, and try to find out what became of the girl that was attacked.
The local paper was not printed till Thursday, and none of the city papers picked up on the incident, so there was nothing to be read. I asked in shops, but none of the staff seemed to live locally. As I was in no way about to start stopping random people on the streets to ask them if they knew anything about the incident, my journey proved to be a waste, so, I was left wishing that I had instead made an attempt to find the girl on my mind. For the remainder of the afternoon I was fairly restless. I did want to go out, but I knew there was little hope of finding interesting people on a Monday night. Really, I was in the mood to make or perform some music, but there was no chance of that at such short notice. I did however, nag my fellow band members, Jade and Louis, to make some future arrangements.
Medicating myself with some of my chemistry, often crosses my mind as a means to find distraction. It does not take as much will power as one may think to stay away from the stuff. I have gone through far too many caged pets, via the testing of my methamphetamine, to ever have the nerve to start taking some of it. More than once I have thought I may have killed people with what I have made, but really blame for any such deaths would not rest on me. No one steps into a car without knowing that they could end up dead.
