The Screaming Hope

I hope, with all of my heart, that she has integrated a retreat centre. With all of my heart.

I look up to see the new teacher. "New" feels so appropriate, because, hell yeah, the man is not older than 25. New teacher, new way of thinking. Which matches with hope in the humanity.
- I'm Mr.Way, your new Art teacher. Your previous one died in a car crash yesterday night. One minute of silence please.
Whispers fill the classroom. I feel bad for the woman, she didn't deserve it. She would've been so good in a retreat centre, dying because of a natural cause.
I feel like... she's dead because of us.
Rest in peace.
I, once again, look up to see the teacher. His short crimson hair stands out in the room. The contrast with his delicate yet masculin face is interesting: his hazel orbs are framed by a thick pair of eyebrows; his nose seem to want to reach up, which makes all the cuteness in his hot face. His lips are slimy and in the middle of a microscopic beard and mustache. He's wearing a black v-neck underneath a gray blazer with a pair of anthracite, quite tight jeans, with a pair of worn out red converses.
I must admit, he's hella hot. He looks so polished yet messy at the same time.
- Ok now, he says, to begin, since I know all your names, I would like to see your personalities. Make me know what are your joys, your scars, your thoughts. Even if you don't draw like Degas or Monet I want to know who you are in deep. You have this hour and 2 more for the next times.
I was kind of feeling lazy now that I know that this is actually what it seems to be a good teacher. I didn't have the habit to express myself in there. I usually expressed myself at home, when I feel the artistic fuel boiling in me, demanding to get out of my chest to land on a paper.
I know, I'm freaking weird but guess what? I'm all that you will have in this text.
I grab a paper and a pencil, and I began to draw. I don't actually know what I'm drawing. I have the habit to draw faces but I can't really show who I am this way. I guess I need to get out of my confort zone.
I draw two black stripes, one in the upper quarter of the paper and another one in the lower quarter: just like the two black thick lines on the screen when you watch a movie. I'm doing these because my life is like one of these boring movies where you wait all the movie for the perturbating element to come. I then begin to draw something which looks like a marshland, with dead plants and wood, with immobile water - just to emphasize the fact that everything is boring, the routine is killing people, killing good manners, killing intelligence. But we're aware of that. Everybody wants to change the world, but no one wants to die. That's the fucking problem. Nobody has the guts. And under no circumstances, me.
After this is finished I draw a wood bark in the middle of the water, a bit destroyed, with a woman laying on it. She is arching her back, but I drew her so that we only see her upside down face and a part of her upper body. Oh and she's naked, so we see her breasts. She has pale green skin because she's sick. She's contaminated by the routine water. She is screaming. She hopes someone powerful will help her out of there. She has hope. But this is useless! She is slowly dragging into the water, she will be drown, she is dying. Her nipples are so cold they stand out to be the first noticed element in the scene I guess. She has her hands into fists, with her longs nasty nails digging into her flesh, bleeding a purple blue-ish liquid.
Everything is in black and white, except the pale green skin and the blood. The blood will soon collide with the water. What will happen?
- Nice work, Hana, a masculin voice says.
I literally jump out of my chair. I was so concentrated in my purposes that all the world around me became inexistant. I was in pure work.
I turn my head, a surprise expression on my face. I feel my heart wanting to escape from my chest.
- Hmm, looks like I scared you to death, says Mr.Way. Sorry... So, can you tell me more about your drawing?
- Ermm, well. Ehh, it's... My vision at my life and society and stuff, so... Hope the message you get from there at the first sight is the right one...
- All I can see is that everything is colourless, except the blood. And ... The light green skin too. Maybe that's what you want the people to see at first? That's what stand out for you?
- Yeah, kind of, but... It's also, like, the thing that nobody is seeing, even if I show them this drawing, they would never understand, I know I sound so teenage-ish and confused and overwhelmed by the hormones but, I swear-
The bell cuts me. Just at the moment I was starting to let go all the boiled angst away from me! The teacher could've really understand my selfish pain. I'm a bit pissed, but now I know that time flies during this hour. I begin to pack my things, to go home, art being the last class of the day.
- If you have some time right now you can stay a little more so maybe you can finish to tell me the meaning of your drawing, says Mr.Way. I think it's quite interesting actually.
- Emm, why not... So, where was I?
- "Nobody understand". And then you told me a thing about hormones but that's not the point.
- Yeah, so... Nobody understand the pain a teenage can experience, unless you live it. I know it sounds completely selfish and hypocrite besides the hunger pain or war pain in the world, but I'd rather go help these people than to stay here doing nothing but dying mentally because of hormones. I'm also dying to see what happens nowadays, the intelligence is falling, everything become the same, routine is carrying on, I'm dragged into it... I don't know how to emerge then. I have hope, I scream mentally my hope, I wish deeply that this thing will save me from going insane.
I breath heavily, surprised by the sincerity of my speech.
- I think you have successed the first art test, then. I actually feel all the emotions you've tried to transmit.
I think I'm blushing. I don't want to admit it. I don't want to admit that his compliments are driving me crazy each seconds.
- Ok, then, says the teacher, I think I'm gonna leave. See ya tomorrow Hana.
He took his bag, walking towards the door.
- Erm Mr.Way! I say.
He quickly walk back so he is in front of me, smiling.
- Yes, Hana?
The way he is pronouncing my name is sending me brain chills. If that exists.
- I would like to know, what is your style? Like, music style, art preferences, all that stuff. To compare, you know?
- Hmm. Well, I like Rock, mostly like the Misfits, Blur, all that stuff. In Art I don't have preferences, I just want something that take my emotions out. What about you?
- Well, I like the Misfits and Blur as well, but I also like Placebo, Green Day and indie bands. In Art I want something emotionally interesting too. I truly think that Art is the only form of magic that can come from the human body, so it must be taken at his value.
- Ok, cool to know someone still make sense in this world, he says. See ya!
- Good evening, I say.

He smiles and then leaves.

Wow, I feel so empty now.

Notes