Simply waking up each morning; just happened to be such a familiar feeling.

No matter how many times he would attempt to elaborate on people’s half-hearted bemusement, they would always brush it off, as if it wasn’t the most important questions of his life. Ivan pondered this usually normal existential questioning every moment he could take advantage of, to the point where it would become normal no longer. An answer was all he needed to hear—anything, any answer that would make sense as to why every fleeting second of his life, none of it felt like it was his own.

The usual route that most people took to campus grounds were unfortunately closed off for construction. Or well, that was more fortunate than anything, considering how worn down it was, but it was no problem since Ivan never walked down that road anyway. In his seclusion, He kept his gaze downcast towards the gravel path, the music blaring from his headphones drowning out any crunch of rocks beneath his feet. Despite how routinely this walk felt so far, there just so happened to be something new today. Ivan paused before the sketchbook, blinking out of his reverie to fixate on its sprawled pages. The pieces were messy and had a scribbled aesthetic to it—nearly unrecognizable in an artistic expression, and yet, he recognized every line drawn. His musing was cut short as a hand snatched it immediately out of his line of sight.