Billy Chenowith

( Nathaniel and Isabel )

ccrpg | cheshiremods

One down.



One to go.

Lately, I find myself unable to sleep.


I hear heels clicking down the hallway and my mind associates that noise with the nurse.



Not the actual nurse. No, of course not. That would be too fucking logical.



Or maybe my logic is completely illogical, making everything that shouldn't make sense make sense.


My head is pounding. My palms are sweating. My fingers are twitching.



She really gives herself away. It's so much easier for the children to hide, when they can hear her coming.

[Billy's journal can only be viewed by his doctors, at this time.]


...and Isabel looked at Nathaniel, seeing how incredibly scared and cold he was. "Don't be afraid, brother. That horrid nurse is no where to be found." She smiled, and moved closer, wrapping an arm around him. "I'm here with you, Nathaniel." The boy looked over to his sister, in awe of how fearless she seemed to be.

"Do you think that the nurse will ever stop chasing us, Isabel?" He said.

Isabel hesitated before answering him. "I'm not sure." She paused. "But she won't ever catch us."

"How do you know? She catches the other children..."

Again, Isabel smiled at her brother. "Because as long as we have each other, we're unstoppable."

"Will we always have each other?"

Isabel nodded, and rested her head against her brother's shoulder.

"Always."


Always.


Always.


Always.


Always.

Pencils, paintbrushes, paper, cameras, ink.

The standard equipment needed to create art...or so people think. Most people don't see outside of the box. They don't see anything other than what is. They don't look forward, to see what could be, or look back to see what was.

What makes art good? What makes it worth looking at? People say they prefer to look at something beautiful. Something that makes sense to them. They look at a picture of a fucking rose, and that's all they see. But what if there's more? What if the flower represents something deeper, and darker than anyone could have imagined?

No one can ever see through an artist’s eyes. They can't borrow his lens, or his tools, or his hands, and create the same piece of art. It could be duplicated visually, of course, but it’d lack meaning, and feeling, and therefore it’d lack everything.

People can go stick their fucking flower paintings in a calendar, so that people can appreciate how ”beautiful” they are one month out of the year.

My photos keep bleeding together. None of them stand out. They’re all the same, and none of them are good enough.

Trees, people, objects are no longer obscure lines and curves, but normal, geometric shapes on a piece of glossy paper. I can’t see the beauty in anything anymore. I need Brenda’s eyes. She’s always been able to see what I’m not able to.

Everything is falling through the cracks. Reality for me seems to slip into all of the places I can’t reach. Normalcy comes in pill form, but along with it comes lack of feeling. Is that what the goal is, here; to make the emotionally unstable feel no emotions at all?

My photos are nothing if I don’t connect. How do they expect me to work in this place? How the fuck do they expect me to see in a place that equips me with emotional blinders?

I need to feel to see. I need to see to feel.

( Application )