Campervas

After a long drawn-out day in poly I finally unwind at a corner coffee shop some ways from my school. It was of course a sweaty and noisy night, but the elements seem to dim into the background of my mind as I drew a long sip of the ice-cold sweetened juice. My eyes were downcast, amusing at the colourless liquid moving up the red bitten straw. Of course I was alone. The embarrassment and longing to be with someone never went away, but my mind was forced into a treadmill of walking towards a better fate. I insisted to myself that I was making progress, and the loneliness was for now a dim but pleasant company. I tried hard to make my juice last longer, pausing to check my phone and look busy. The distinct sounds of laughter and chatter from the stalls echoed against the narrow street and made me wince a little inside.
At precisely 8:50pm I stood up noiselessly from my chair, deliberately walked to the tray return and exited.
8:52: I turned the corner into the night market. All sorts of arts students were collaborating. Stalls were showing students drawing portraits, some letting people try their programmed games, others just selling space for glamorised selfies. The hippie clothes were very popular, especially the female mid-rift tops.
8:53: Further into the market the street became dimmer along with the bustle. Tired children were sitting over their stalls selling poorly drawn artwork and bulkily designed phone cases. Some were just stooping over an empty table eating packet food. No one really paused to look at the passersby.
8:57: After taking many detours I finally arrived at the tail end of the market. At this point the stalls were stocked with shipped products. Cheap imitations of bags and phone cases. Some watches and other accessories. Some stalls were completely black. For Rent.
At the last stall - or rather at a makeshift tent right after the last stall - I arrived at my destination. There were no goods, just the customary black plastic mat at the foot of the tent. At this point my pretty tired self couldn't muster the will for any greeting of sorts and I just unzipped the tent and entered like I owned the place (as small as it was). Coming so far in this journal I guess I should introduce myself. My name is - well its arbitrary. Call me mob or any name that sticks. Mob is fine. I am a poly first-year studying animation. I am (and painfully obviously so) a loner. In my younger days before I enrolled here people would at least respect my good brain, but I guess even that wasted away at some point. I draw like a stumbling child, and keep my humbleness towards my peers lest this not-talent of mine gets shone too much light. My gloomy outlook or whatever generally works keeping people away from me like how popular people's pheromones attract draw the others around them. I'm sure you've met someone like me before? I wonder if you could recall their name for me. Well people have a lot of reasons for staying quite. Mine reason is just mine.
-In the tent it was pitch dark. I really couldn't tell what was inside but the hazy notion of some objects. Then there was this sound of fabric moving and a big burly object moving, scaring the shit out of me.
"Ahhh!" was the awkward sound that came out of me. I wasn't quite in my comfort zone. I fumbled at the bulb hanging from inside the tent and turned it on. This weird person continued to stuff himself with chips while looking at me, like nothing was going on. I tried my best to give a disturbed look and urged him with my eyes and eyebrows to give some sort of explanation for eating in the tent like a stealthy nin. He wasn't responding. "Er hi, my name is Askdf. I'm here for my shift," I assumed polite speech, unconsciously stiffening up. After a pause he looked back at his food. I got promptly ignored. I could feel my cheeks redenning but what choice did I have?! It was my first shift here, so I needed some information. "Is there anything I should know about this stall?" apart from sitting on my butt for 2 hours. They weren't even selling anything! He continued to ignore me, and the loud sounds of his munching started to irritate me. Inwardly I took a sigh. There was nothing to it. I left the tent and folded my legs and sat next to dismal black mat outside. I was a little fidgety - what do you expect, when I was selling nothing?

toys. whether we are nice or bad. They do wtv being popular dictates. Good or bad is a personal jedgement. I am so, but instead my character is being easily hurt. but i think, as long as there is someone who understands me on some level, as long as there is hope, I will try again. Raining night in a campervan. Paid embarassingly with the few coins i had. $15 a night sharing with a roommate.