In An Oldster\'s Mind

In An Oldster’s Mind

Crowd and noise always interrupt my mind in the TV room. I desire someone to take me back to my private room. I want to be alone and think about my personal things. I appreciate that a nurse helping me to go back my room. Along the hallway, I look straight forward and do nothing like a plant. What factor causes the plant to move? I turn my head as if I have seen my friend, a close friend passing my wheelchair. What I see at the back actually is a nurse who is frightened by my active and rare movement. When I look back again, the nurse has a already fallen onto the floor. Screaming and nervousness spread out all over the floor. Bang! The door close behind me.
Staring at the mirror, I used to count the number of wrinkles on my forehead. They remind me the number of inerasable past events that I had involved in. Rapidly, I climb on the bed. Bed is my lovely place. I call it, the gymnasium.
I used to roll on my bed. Whenever my mind cannot function or do not know what should do next, I would roll, roll and roll. This time is unusual because my head is crashing the fence of the bed. It is not much painful. The crash stops me rolling but starts me getting recall of my friend, Angus. At a time, my brain is working like a computer loading an enormous file. A picture is appearing - a guy is walking towards me and gives me his saber. The saber is sharp and shiny, it reflects an intensive light to my eyes. My eyes shutter reluctantly. I see my school, my night school. I am glad that this recall is not being erased. I remember that Angus sat beside me.
"Do your best. You are new to this subject. Everything here is brand new to you. Don’t worry. Just try your best." Angus held up his head by his hand and murmured. His eyes were staring on the page of a novel, but I knew he was talking to me. In my class Angus was the only one who retook the course. Everyday I attended the course because I would get the mark of attendance. The teacher’s voice was gradually fading out until no words I could hear. Everyday the whole course started and finished like that.
At home I used to turn on the radio. Loneliness was my hatred. The louder the radio, the more it comforted me. Reluctantly, I heard a personal story from the radio. The voice of the caller seemed to be familiar, but what was the purpose to figure it out. I didn’t care the other people. My mind was full of my own anxiety. "… Suicide is not a method to get your answer. Find your answer in the real life," the host said.
The caller shared his unsatisfactory throughout the air without taking a breath. The host did nothing to him with his talented mouth. The caller spoke restlessly within a few minutes. Impatiently, the host was trying to stop his speech, "Since it is the time for the commercial, our conversation is threatening to terminate right now. Thanks for your call, Angus." The radio was still on in my room but I was on the street. I was cycling to the park, where once I saw Angus sitting on an unique block of rock. That time his hand was holding a barbecue fork pointing to the fish in the pond, seemed like preparing for his dinner.
Next day, anytime I met him, I could see a heavy book in his hand. In the course, I knew he hadn’t brought his textbook but in his hand was the unknown book. My curiosity led me into asking him about the book. He murmured and introduced it, "I love this book. There are many past cases of killings, kidnappings, suicides and that kind of excitement."
"You are preparing for out English independent study project, right?"
"No. I am preparing for kidnapping a girl."
"Stop joking. How about discussing your plan with me. Ha ha." I giggled as I turned my head to