Work in progress

She wasn't depressed, just unhappy. She first realized this fact on the bus ride home as she was listening to the insane rants of the homeless Blackman had seen this man many times before, it is hard to avoid anyone in such a small town time he was talking about how amazing a dog's sense of smell was. " they can smell what you had for lunch they smell each other they smell there children! They can smell when you last defecated they can smell if you had just been driving just gotten out of the car they can smell your period the don't like that." he had been going on like this, without stopping, the intire bus ride. Lux couldn't help but smile every now and then at all the uncomfortable people trying to ignore him. Lux was taking the bus back to an empty apartment with only the neighbors cat that she was taking care of to welcome her. Yes, she was lonely, but so is everyone else. Loneliness wasn't the issue. She didn't know what it was that was making her dissatisfied, of coarse she had tried to figure out what it was. She had tried disappearing her abnormally strange dreams, and even tried talking to her fake friends who never listened, but she new that wouldn't help. Then Lux decided to move on to more drastic solutions. Getting stoned in strangers homes with stained carpets who felt the same unhappiness and emptiness she did. One reason she did know that was causing it was that her talents were going to waste. But whose aren't? She bought some pencils, a sketchbook and a fresh notebook, as well as a camera. But none of these items helped. She didn't know what to fill them up with. So Lux decided to just give it time, maybe she was just in a 'funk'. It was now October, and nothing had changed. The notebook was empty, her camera film undeveloped. The only difference was she was not as desperate to find out how to free herself of the weight, and had accepted it as her fate of loosing touch completely. She was more alone then ever, disconnecting herself from all the girls who tried to fix her up with some guy, hoping that she would be fun again. Eventually they all gave up and had stopped calling. Tonight she was walking down her street from the bust stop around dusk. It was brisk and she was wearing all black. She was looking down as she walked, hoping to avoid small talk with the neighbors. All of a sudden she stopped. There was something dark and big in the middle of the road. She walked over to it. roadkill. Or was it? She took a second look. No, it was a dead bird. A raven, and it looked as though it had been killed by a dog. Blood at the throat and hunks of purpleblack feathers everywhere. But when she looked at her reflection in its open dead eyes, she felt so cold and empty as if ice water and been dumped inside her. She picked up the dead bird and carried it home. Once she got inside she placed it on the kitchen table, next to her dirty dishes. Then she took a hot shower.