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OriFic The Other Side of the Road

Discussion in 'Fiction' started by high_time, Jan 18, 2016.

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  1. high_time Veteran

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    [​IMG]
    Synopsis : When I was walking through the roads, I encountered a lot of unusual things that seemed mundane at first. Turns out, it was filled with such precious memories that shaped the way I am. It's a story of random encounters I made from the side of the road.

    Status : Completed

    ===

    Chapter List​

    Road 1 - A Track Not Far Off from Home

    Page 1

    Road 1-1 : A Silly Question
    Road 1-2 : Lately
    Road 1-3 : Alright
    Road 1-4 : Tale
    Road 1-5 : Evening
    Road 1-6 : Water
    Road 1-7 : Closer
    Road 1-8 : Memory of That Day

    Road 2 - Sex is Good but My Hand is Better


    Page 2

    Road 2-1 : That Guy
    Road 2-2 : This Guy
    Road 2-3 : These Guys
    Road 2-4 : Which Guy?
    Road 2-5 : The Sun That's Made in China
    Road 2-6 : Chip
    Road 2-7 : Acknowledge
    Road 2-8 : Country

    Road 3 - And Justice for None

    Page 3

    Road 3-1 : Bread
    Road 3-2 : Butter
    Road 3-3 : Cheesecake
    Road 3-4 : Eggnog
    Road 3-5 : Porkchops
    Road 3-6 : Potato
    Road 3-7 : Curry
    Road 3-8 : Teatime

    Epilogue - What Lies on the Other Side

    Page 3

    Epilogue
     
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    Last edited: Mar 8, 2016
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    I originally intended for this post to be the trivia and such, but knowing that I don't really need the stuff, I guess I only use this so all the pages will line up nicely.

    In this post, I'll be thanking all of you who manages to drop by despite the lack of your own free time and motivation. All of your support, no matter how less it was, I'll appreciate it a lot.

    Writing this story project has opened my eyes to a lot of things. In the future, I'll try going through something a bit different, in order to stay more true to what I really want to do ever since I started writing a story.

    Finishing this in its entirety may not be possible at all, if not for your support. I couldn't thank you enough for this. Hope you look forward to my next work, if you feel like it, hahaha...

    Alright then, I'd be putting my closing note for the story.

    cheers,

    high_tme.
     
    Last edited: Mar 8, 2016
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    Road 1

    A Track Not Far Off from Home

    Road 1-1 : A Silly Question


    "What do you want to do for the future?"

    A lot of people asked me that question before. I had to say, I haven't really thought about it, I just want to finish what's in front of me first—that's what I always said to them. What's really on my mind didn't matter since they weren't really asking for my opinion at all—they just wanted to hear what they wanted to hear. Which is, planning for things realistically, be more adult-like than what I could hope to be.

    They said, do what you love, do things that makes you feel alive. I'm the kind of person who hate doing things I used to love, because I have to be serious upon it if I wanted to make a living, not just fooling around and blowing off some steam. When I relentlessly pursued my passion, all I have is remorse. When I pursued my passion there'd always someone who tried to change the way I do things. Unfortunately, some of their words actually made sense. It's just me who's a difficult person.

    I have no courage to pursue the things I like, because of the past experiences of me being hurt, and it's always repeating each time I tried it again. I have no determination to sit through the things I dislike, in order to reach the point I wished to belong in. The only thing I could do, was to live on as if I was successful, in my imaginations.

    A lot of responsibility was burdened upon those who were blessed, or should I say cursed with success, but imagination is free. Anyone could imagine their success if they want to. The only effort taken was an effort to imagine the world as they wished to be. As for actually working to achieve it, all was up to each respective individual.

    My idea of success was about living the best life with most of my time kept to myself. I'd like to live in a homely apartment complex with good sound-proofing, and buy some high-end audio devices. I wished to play the records of my favorite ambient albums, having all day to bask in its sublime warmth of ethereal symphony. Forget about work; forget about all of these personal growth. I wished for a place and time where I could chill out and contemplate about life.

    This is what I meant by broadening my horizons. That to be said, I have something I want to do for the future. I want to live free and chill out. No need to compete with others anymore, no need to tend to anything, just be a free spirit, unbound from all kinds of annoyance of material world.

    Joining a religious group might make the living problem easier, but well, I had my own ideals on how life was supposed to work. I'll just say no to that offer.

    My best bet was about contacting the spirit world, I believe in there reside the gods of prosperity and other denizens which would grant me cool powers I need in order to survive in this harsh world. With the powers I gained, it would guarantee my easier time living. Not that I was certain the spirits were real or not, but there was just some strange thing happening at my place.

    When I returned from shopping on the nearby mall, I realized the front pipe of my water gallon pump was missing, and it fell down inside of the gallon, the last time I checked, I was really sure it was still up there. I figured I could get it back if I emptied the contents after a while, as it fell down to the bottom. When the gallon was empty, the front pipe mysteriously vanished away. It was down there the whole time, submerged in the mineral water—there was no way it could have vanished by itself.

    In my past, there were quite a lot of occassions where I nearly reached the end of my journey, but I miraculously survived. Though, it didn't really affirm the existence of the spirits since all of them could be explained logically. If I didn't experience that gallon thing, I most likely would just thought of my theory as a mere delusion. Maybe it still was, not really sure whether its real or just me.

    I just had nothing else I could really count on, in order to live based upon my ideals. If I were to focus on either my hobbies like writing, I would just be really powerless in the end, unable to make a living; unable to have fun at all. My best bet was just trying to contact the spirit world, sending my most intense feelings in a form of wish.

    Some people said, a honest wish indicates the things that I lack.

    I guess I do lack the support of people. I couldn't seem to open up myself to them. There's always the risk of being rejected, ignored and getting hurt when I needed them the most.

    As for the spirits, they can be whoever I want to be and grant me the things I desired—or at least it might be, until I actually met them for real, in a way in which I wouldn't be able to deny their existence any longer. Still, I would prefer if the spirits were immaterial and could be something as I imagined it to be.

    So I don't have to be afraid of being judged, of being criticized when I actually needed shelter and a helping hand—things I couldn't hope to acheive when I was with others.

    In which reminded me of something. Do people refer to these spirits as 'God' or something similar? Their concept of an all-powerful being that's pretty much described as all-forgiving, but also really envious and ruthless to those who oppose him and worship those other than him.

    What made me hate him the most, is the thing about him telling people not to lie, but when people think about the truth in all of their honesty, and the truth wasn't in favor of him, he would punish them severely either way. This very 'God' only like it when people acts based upon his ideal. He doesn't want people to be themselves, if it upsets him. Well he could do anything, for he is the great being.

    There were also an admirable side of him, the one all benevolent and compassionate, would let you entrust your entire burden and future and all hopes. Your calling, your passion, you could just let him guide you the way, he will cast away all your doubts if you just give up on everything and devote your life to serving him.

    While his ruthless side could be despicable, it wasn't like I was any better at all. If I had such kind of power, I guess I would degrade the entire humanity to the point it was no more, I would regard them no other than illusion hell-bent being the outlet of my expression of not-so-agreeable ideas.

    Much different than the great being, I wouldn't care about shouldering the burdens of all the people in the world. I just wanted to live my own life, free from the business of others.

    To be honest though, the thing in which made me want to stay away from worshiping this 'God' ain't the teachings itself. It is their followers. A lot of them were really meddlesome and would butt in your private matters and stomp on your ideals if they deem it wrong according to their 'collective beliefs'.

    I just wanted to live my life in peace, away from all of these kinds of people. If there was a God, I know what it should be. Something in which could give everything I lack and shelter me from virtually anything, at any occasions, forever and ever. With my full trust I give, will always be there for me to rely on. So that I wouldn't need anything else, I wouldn't have to worry about anything.

    Just me and that spirit within, everything else didn't matter a single bit.

    A God that wouldn't judge nor punish, nor telling me what is right or wrong. Instead of telling, will be the one who listen, at all times, when everyone else had their deaf ears set. Most importantly, the one who would respect me being the way I am comfortable with.

    That is the epitome of God I wish to have by my side.

    Regarding what I wanted to do for the future, I have decided. I'll try to get closer to that spirit, so I could gain an immense number of power. With that, I will use that power to cleanse the world of all the things I hate.

    The world might be a beautiful thing, if it was only filled with lovely things all around. That's what I believe.

    Everyone has things they want to do for the future. This is mine, now I wish you luck so you'll definitely find your own thing to do.
     
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    Road 1-2 : Lately

    I was afraid to make the big decisions of my own. I didn't want to feel pain anymore, I didn't want to be disappointed in myself again. I just wanted to live in peace forever and keeping things simple; I didn't want things to change. Still, there was something in me which screamed in agony as I kept sitting back down the corner. It signaled me to finally take a step forward and as I kept ignoring it, these feelings began to push me forward onto something unknown.

    As a result, I ended up here, conveying all these feelings in form of spoken words.

    I didn't know what was the motive behind all this, but I was reminded of something else. Of my desire to become someone significant. It might be a foolish dream, but—is it okay to try that stupid thing once more? It may be something dumb, but I might regret it later if I didn't do it within my lifetime. It's true that even with all these done, it's a lot of pain and I would probably still just amount to nothing, but at the very least, I want to make a wonderful memory, even if it's just once.

    Sooner or later, I'll find myself with nothing to do anyway, and doing nothing is boring. Goes without saying, that it's better doing what I always wanted. I wasn't that young anymore, but I believe, as long as I got enough time in my disposal, nothing would be that much further within reach.

    The bigger question might be:

    "How long do you want to reach forward?"

    As for me, I'll try to extend that reach little by little, until I've attained just about everything that I yearned for. Though, the most important thing isn't the accomplishment.

    I just wanted to fill this entire lifetime with lots of wonderful memories.
     
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    Road 1-3 : Alright

    In this world, there were a lot of desires that are impossible to reach. Not mainly because of the effort or skills required; some of them were simply things that couldn't be changed. In response to it, there existed various means to compensate for it somehow. Even if those things never could be real, at least there's ways to make do with it.

    Stories were one of the means to cross these boundaries and satiate the longing of one's soul for something beyond their reach. Through it, you could become anyone at any kind of place, experiencing a lot of different. lively situations from the start 'til its end.

    While it's true that some of these amazing things could be achieved in real life, some of us just didn't want to churn out effort because it didn't seem to worth all the trouble. We might love to rise to the top in a particular endeavor, but that love might not be enough for the sacrifices needed and all of the disappontments we must face, if we desired to venture further and further—in a road which shows no sign of promise—for some, if not most.

    One might argue that it's mainly about utilizing their talents and work their best with what they have, I didn't have much to say to it, since I wasn't a hard-worker myself. Let the ones who worked their hardest have their say.

    What's on my mind currently : how can I make real those exciting parts of story?

    I guess I could just calm my mind and just sleep whenever I'm tired. It's just that simple. Dreams do make everything cametrue. Whenever someone says they're pursuing their dreams, they're basically lying when they work too hard and be stressed out rather than having a healthy schedule of quality sleep.

    What if you woke up when the dream's getting good? Just sleep again, or wrote something based upon that dream. Would it be okay though if none of those things you wished for would never be real?

    It depends on you though. I believe, out there somewhere, there'd be a portal in which would connect you directly to the world of your dreams. If you could get there, you might not be able to return, ever. Since you'd probably like it there too much compared to this world.

    Though, the grass might be greener on the other side. When that time comes, you can always rely on the protagonists' experience to guide you back.

    See you in the other world, main character.
     
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    Road 1-4 : Tale

    I'm not really sure about how to write an actual story at all, but I know what I want to see and how should it be. There were a lot of ideas swirling in my head on what kind of tales I want to sculpt, but as I tried to write them, for some reason all of the descriptions and things I've imagined kinda flown outta the window. Alright, I've decided, let's just waste some words trying to talk about some of the story ideas I had in mind.

    Just recently, I had thought on a reverse-harem story. It's about a girl who lived in a family full of guys and got enrolled in a co-ed school where the most of the students were males. The twist is, the guys acted like girls for the most part and viewed our protagonist as if she were some perverted main character guy. You got scenes of her walking in the boys changing room by accident and met with the dudes covering their chest and screaming in a high-pitched voice.

    Something like that, or the guys actually had interest in girly things while our heroine was mostly about stuff usual males would like. Even during the date, our heroine was the one being manly and she could put up quite a fight even against people twice her size due to her martial art training. In casual life, she's pretty much a slob who enjoyed playing video games and doing some otaku stuff (that were mostly aimed at male demographic though).

    The story involved our heroine figuring out how strange her classmates was, and how even the other girls viewed her as a romance interest. The setting were a subject to change, meaning it might actually be set in some all-girls school where the girls viewed our heroine as if she was a guy, though there were also bits of 'friendship' here and there.

    Plotlines of it involved her being introduced to the new environment, and the main focus is about the development of relationship between her and people around her, through three years she spent at this school. That's about it for the setting, generally using a trope about a male harem protagonist, changed their gender and make them be treated roughly similar for some interesting twist.

    Xxx​

    The other story I was thinking had a fantasy setting. A human girl lives in a lively village—her family runs a farm, item shop and a ranch. It was quite a normal life: she woke up in the morning to take care of the plants and the livestocks, along with her family members. After she was done, she helped tending the store, usually after lunchtime.

    She didn't attend school due to her severe social anxiety but she received private tutoring from afternoon until the evening, where there'd be a snack. The tutoring would continue on until night, in which the tutor would leave after having dinner with the family. After that, there would basically a free time for the girl. That was during the weekday.

    As for her social anxiety, she helped the store by restocking and stuff—things that didn't require human interaction, and her tutor was really nice to her that she was able to loosen up.

    During the weekends, she got permission to play the entire day, though she never really went outside, except to the library where she'd borrow quite a few books. The subject matter was rather various, from alchemy to geography, but her favorite subject was about the monster girls. She thought, if people seem scary to her, the monsters might actually look homely.

    After that she'd basically return home and read while she's in the mood, or going to some places, preferrably where no one else went to, just daydreaming. She dreamed about meeting an actual monster girl, making friends with them and such. At first, it was like a delusional fantasy.

    Even in this fantasy world, the village hadn't encountered any monster girls for the longest time—until one day the girl encountered one while she was taking a walk during the weekends. The monster was badly wounded and she took care of her in a certain hut which used to be her secret hideout one day when she ran away from home—it was due to her being forced into school by her family despite her not wanting it.

    That was the first time in a while, that she didn't get back right away after taking walks. Now as she took a good look of the monster—she had a shape of a normal girl, with a fiar white skin and blond hair tied to ponytails. Her clothing was rather skimpy and revealing, but what made her stood out was a pair of black wings on her back and small fangs protruding from her mouth. The girl thought, it might be a demon type, but her sleeping expression was just so innocent it couldn't possibly be a bad monster.

    Before she could even talk with the monster though, all of the fatigue accumulated from the nursing finally caught up with her. Even with all of the helping she'd done, it felt like, her stamina was draining in rates faster than ever.

    When she woke up, she found herself her hideout, all wrapped in a warm blanket—it was already night out. She felt something tender left ni her lips and a weird sensation all through her body—it made her blush.

    The monster was nowhere to be seen. She didn't know what the monster did to her while she was asleep, but she was dying to meet her again. As she went back, she realized the village was rather too quiet even for this particular time. By the time she reached her home, not a single soul was present. All of the plants and livestocks were also gone. There's still a bit of leftovers in the item shop and some food in the storage, but not much.

    She was left all alone in this village. Not knowing where the others were; not even what kind of things took them away. All she knew, the monster she nursed back earlier might know something.

    When she felt all hope was lost, she encountered various monster girls along the way, in which she nursed back and make friends with. Using their help, she began to rebuild her home and village from the scratch and finally uncover the mysteries behind all this disappearance.

    That's about it I guess.
     
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    Road 1-5 : Evening

    I waited for the elevator to come. The wait was so long, I checked the clock on my phone every so often. I tried to ease my burden by playing some games, but all I've got was some snakes. It's just an old model of phone since I only use that for calls and text messaging. When the door was finally open, I noticed there was no people inside. I took it from the ground floor, and no one's getting on with me.
    Quite strange for an apartment building this big and luxurious, not to have any visitors present.

    I came here in the evening to visit one of my old friend. He was a successful businessman since young age and amassed quite the wealth of fortune to be able to own a room in the royal suite section, which was located near the penthouse. I was supposed to come here first to celebrate his 30th birthday, but I got some work to do.

    I was the lead Author of a game development company, and I was supposed to submit the story draft during that time. Had to pull of some all-nighters to get the last bits going. The story was a hybird of an adventure game with some rpg elements, but no actual battles and such. You collect various items and meet various people. It's mostly point and click.

    The story was about the entire world which got plunged into eternal darkness due to a dragon who drained the entire energy of the sun. Our hero was awakened by a mysterious chant. He adventured far and wide to uncover all the mysteries and restore the light upon this land once more—that's about it.

    Well you might call me lead Author but actually I was just in for the ideas. We developed the story all together and especially the detailed parts weren't really my stuff. I was mostly just offering suggestion on how to make the story interesting. I pitched in the ideas of the developers and also their aspirations into the story. Rather than actually writing it, I was mostly just listening to others describing their muse--which is good, I was rather lazy about writing, actually.

    That aside, when I called my friend, wanting to apologize for my absence, he just texted me back, saying it's a relief that I didn't come or I would found him in such embarrassing mess, he said. About a week later though, he said it was an urgent business—he needed my assistance. He sent me quite a grand of money to buy a lot of groceries and some other things, as if he were sick and wanting to isolate himself for a while.

    "Are you not feeling well?"

    "It's quite embarrassing to say, but something just happened on my 30th. I couldn't go out and work. I couldn't even speak. It's terrible. I felt like I was going to die"

    "Why didn't you call sooner? I might be really busy at the moment but if you're in such predicament, I'll always find a time to visit."

    "I just, don't wanna trouble you. I felt like I could handle this myself. I couldn't be more wrong than that."

    "Just hold the fort, I'd be there in a jiffy."

    I was wondering what kind of stuff happened. It wouldn't be that urban legend where you'd turn into a fairy if you stayed virgin until you've turned thirty? Feeling rather nervous and riddled with a strange kind of excitement, I rushed towards his room. Though as I knocked, I heard a somehow muffled voice, but its definitely his.

    "Come in."

    As I made my entrance, a loud bang sound burst from all over, with loads of playful smiles placed all over. My friend stood there, like his old self, holding a big cake box, the birthday hat he's wearing was rather goofy. Beside him, lined in a rectangular table in his spacious apartment, were his co-workers.

    "Happy 30th birthday man, it's hard to believe we're actually around the same age." said my friend.

    I was like, stop it, I didn't want to remember about my age. Ah I realize that he already had a girlfriend and they've done it like rabbits. So the only virgin out there was me. With the multitude of shock coming from all those realization, I felt my entire consciousness fading as heat escaped my body in a tremendous pace.

    The last thing I felt was a big thud on the back of my head.

    When I came to be, I was in a weird-looking mascot creature whose mission was to recruit magical girls to save the world. It was shaped like a penguin but it had quite long arms and legs, it also had wings and a backpack.

    ...and I thought the fairies would look like cute lolis.

    Oh well, this might be a good reference since the company I was working for had been working on various magical girl stories too.

    Xxx​

    Some people told me, life is a competition. Only losers would think otherwise, since losers didn't have to try at all. Though, if one won something without even trying, would they still be considered a loser?

    If one worked their best, although they didn't won, would they be considered a winner?

    It's all so confusing to me, though I must admit, I had experienced a lot of frustrating things. Everywhere I went, a lot of people were better than me at everything. I just couldn't win at anything.

    Did I really tried at all? Even though I put my best effort, most of it didn't seem that satisfying, the same thing went by when I won something at the most unexpected moments when I barely thought about doing things.

    Which made me realize: either way you try it, you will always lose.

    So the next time I met that certain someone, I will correct their ideals. Life is not a competition, it's about losing, no matter what you do.

    It just sounds about right, I guess. Since when you have nothing more to lose, you can live your life without any regrets.
     
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    Road 1-6 : Water

    A stranger in the park approached me out of blue. He handed me over a bottle of water. Its textures so crystal clear, in the warmth of shimmering sunlight, it made a glint of perfect cyan. Normally I wouldn't accept a gift from someone I don't know, but my gut feelings made an exception. Seems I could trust him—I just can't find the reason why.

    "Is it okay to drink this?"

    In the heat of summer, I was busy with work. My subordinates were truly on all-time low—their motivations dire and their actions desperate. If we did poorly this period, the entirety of us could be demoted. It would be a lot better if it's just me, though, thinking about the fates of people under me, on how it might be much harder for them to cope up with their finances, not to mention all these underachieving surely would be a heavy blow on their morale.

    During this hellish season, I forgot to eat and sleep regularly. Forgot to clean around the house and tending around my own needs. I was totally in a wreck. If I wasn't being yelled at by my secretary, I most likely been at the office, completely passed out from overworking—or even a hospital ward. She used to be a pretty girl, but since this period, it felt like she aged about ten years or more—nowadays she look half-dead. The same with my workers—we were a company of half-zombies.

    "...hey, Pops."

    I felt a tap filled with energy from the stranger. As he noticed my reaction, he quickly nod, in which my thirst impulse made me took off the lid bottle and downed the entire contents of it before I realize what was going on. I could only feel the raging streams of chill water, as if it was taken from a sacred springs from one of the fantasy novels I snuck out reading to blow off some steam.

    "Thanks, I owe you one."

    Even after that much of drink, my voice sound rather hoarse, as if it took that much effort to actually say something comprehensible. The stranger, in which by now, after refreshing the electrolytes on my body, had his features known to my sight.

    He looked young, as young as a high-schooler or a freshman in college. In contrast with me, with deep wrinkles all of my face although I still had quite a lot of stamina. Though, it wasn't saying much due to all of this lethargy during the recent times. Noticing my stare, he began to take a closer look, and he let out a long sigh.

    "No offense, Pops, but you look like shit right now. You had nice clothes and good posture, but your eyes are dead."

    Guess it might be a bit too much, which made even the usually selfish youngsters felt pity for the likes of me.

    "It's work, lad. We had tight schedule recently. Ah yeah, how much was that drink for, I must repay--"

    "I don't understand, what it is, which makes you adults truly passionate talking about your work, if it only makes you dead."

    At first I was startled by his actions, which show no restraint for his words the moment there's something which tugged his conscience. He was quite bold to speak his mind to an old man he just met. It's good to be idealistic as a young man, but I need to teach him a little or two about keeping his feet on the ground.

    Not because I was more experienced or wise, it's just—because I was concerned about his future, since I used to be like him. It made me suffer so much before I could even secure a job of my own. Now that I got a steady income, there's no way I would let it go.

    "Ahem...well. It might not be my place to say this but, surely you must know the reason from your parents. They work hard so you could have a good life, good education and most importantly, a future. It's because they care for you and your siblings, if you have them."

    "Is it really worth having their already frustrating lives drained by work, only for them to find out, their son had been wasting their efforts, their children not appreciating what's given to them?"

    "Not all families are like that. You seem like a good kid, so I'm sure your family is doing well."

    "Pops, you have the same eyes as my parents. I don't want my parents to die like this. Yeah, we're doing well, and my brothers' taking on their footsteps by working hard, but for some reason, I just can't. I find no reason to live just to work and work, only to raise children that would end up knowing nothing but work."

    "You're thinking about it too much lad, it's only hard at first, but when you're through with it, you'll get used to it. Besides, when you work, you can provide for yourself and for others who need you, rather than having to rely on someone. On top of that, it's not like you won't have any free time. You can always make up time to do the things you like."

    "Did you always have time for that, Pops?"

    "Yeah, I always do, and if I didn't seem to remember it, the people who cared about me will tell me to rest up. I also did this to them as well, when they really need the rest they deserved. That's how I ended up here, in this park. I only look like this when I'm tired, when I rest enough, I'll be back looking young again, hahaha."

    "I'm still confused about what's the point in working."

    "As for myself, it happen to be the kind of job I enjoy, and I like helping people out. It might be tired and stressing at times......hmm..."

    "I've read in a book somewhere, that we, as an individual, were not special in the slightest. When we refused to take action on some part, others will definitely take it, soon or later. People exist to fill up these roles because they want to feel important and significant. It's a need called self-actualization."

    "Yeah, I remember reading about that. Sounded like you have something else to say about it..."

    "The truth is, there's an integral part in those self-actualization need, associated with the appreciation of others, right? I was wondering, if that's the case, it might be so cruel for God to create humans this way, so they would rely on each other for some thing that would be judged so unfairly, in work, for example. Not everyone was able to get what they deserved, no matter how hard they worked, and some others who barely worked at all, was the ones who swam in riches."

    "That can be a tough thing. Not everyone was born with the talents and the ability of survive."

    "...you mean, privilege."

    "Not everyone were that way; I was born from a good family and I wasted all the good fortunes—I ended up having to work my way from the very bottom just to get here."

    "I see."

    "I don't really mind about appreciation from the others though. As I got older, things like that were far less of an importance. I first realized when I was a lot younger. Since it wasn't something I could control, there's no need to bother about it."

    "Wouldn't it be better, if people could get the appreciation they deserved? Not simply because others unfairly deem someone to be worthy or not? If not, what was the reason for us to work hard, for those ungrateful pricks?"

    "There are just things you can't change, lad. Fussing over it would just stress you out and take off your mind over the more important things—they're just not worth mulling about. It means you just have to keep moving until you found someone who would appreciate you and work your hardest for them, but yeah, it's impossible to find even after so long."

    "Does that mean, you're not appreciated in your work even after so long, Pops?"

    "I'm not sure. I just felt like, lately, the good things we've done so far just met with a blind eye from our superiors. It's only when we're screwed up, that we get their notice. I tried thinking about starting my own business but, no one was with me—they're scared of even more unpredictable markets out there. There's just no opportunity out there."

    "It sounds really tough, I have no idea what it is, but good luck Pops."

    "Well, me and my team could make it so far because of a good luck, but I don't know if just 'good luck' is enough for this matter...."

    "Here, after all this talking I'm thirsty. Let's have a drink first."

    "Ah, alright."

    Me and the young lad went separate ways after that. I had the feeling we would meet again soon. The conversation with him sparked something I've long forgotten.

    What is the most important thing for me? I'm fairly certain it wasn't work, but I wasn't sure what it was either. I decided just to be myself, and finally came in terms that, even as a hard-working manager, it wasn't right to make your employees work in such inhumane way. I should be open to my family about it, even if they might hate me for making our financial life harder.

    ..but it's probably much harder for them if I were to die all of sudden because all this overwork.

    As a team, we decided to file this case to the social security in a case of worker abuse, and after our demands were met--or not--it doesn't matter, we would confirm our permanent resignation to this company. What will be done, would be done at later date. Talking with the lad made me realize, that before I'm a worker, I'm a human being.

    I won't let financial responsibilities be the bane of my dignity.

    Though, the main reason was, since I want to spend a lot of free time enjoying that water, since it was just so delicious. I wouldn't mind being unemployed and divorced on top of that.
     
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    Road 1-7 : Closer

    There was something that's been bugging me right now. Recently people were going about the tropical vacation area around this winter, escaping the cold unforgiving land and onto the warm hospitality of a tourist region. They sure had a lot of money and were rather bored in the White Christmas, so this time, they wanted to celebrate it by dancing naked by the bonfire, and instead of buckets of chicken, they wanted it to be regional delicacies by the tiki lodge.

    This certain tropical region was filled with beaches and coconut palms. Just this morning my brother offered me a bowl of coconut drink while he was completely naked in the sunlight. He streaked across the lines of beach and shagged various seashells and crabs on the way back. He mated with sharks day and night, murdered about eleven each day. We had the fins for breakfast, lunch and dinner—we got tired of it, so just rice and stuff were just fine.

    While everyone else was naked, I was in my room, browsing the internet, naked. The connection speed in this tropical region wasn't all that special, nothing to write home about—at least it could let me download a lot of stuff for free and no such limitations compared to back there. I was thinking, that I had grown to hate winter too so might as well live here for the rest of my life.

    During today's lunch, I ate alone. Cooked a severed sea urchin's head with a tombstone and it end up as a chocolate spaghetti with tuna mayo. The insides of the spaghetti had various algebraic formulas magically appearing so I had to put cream sauce for it to incite a lot of pornographic images about stick figures crawling in the sunset, with matching boxers.

    Just today, during the season of tropical winter, I experienced the most frustrating experience yet, when I joined an online server, ended up getting one billion ping. It resulted in me getting kicked even before I ever joined the server to play. I was really friggin' bored with nothing much to do beside staring at the lowdown beach, which was rather beautiful during the evening and the break of dawn. Quite a pity I wasn't up most of time.

    I slept before dawn and woke up after the sunset, so it's mostly just a pitch-black day—rather boring.
    I truly need to fix my sleep schedule in this tropical paradise. I asked my brother if he could make some dish which could boost my energy, so I could wake up on time to enjoy all those festivities during this limited period of festivity. He just said to me this:

    "Don't bother. Being active in the day doesn't suit you, but if you really want to make your life miserable, try the specially-baked coffee with pineapple dumplings."

    "Ain't it just some regular dish?"

    "Being ordinary is the best way to life, my brother."

    "You're the furthest person I know who's ordinary."

    After that, I was just like—forget about it. I haven't got much sleep during the holidays, since I pretty much just play games to vent all the stress accumulated pre-holiday. It's been a while since I've seen the sun in that time. The winter time made me just wanted to cuddle up in my heater-coated room and never ever left the room except for meal time. There was one time in our town, during the ice cold snowflake raindrop fell clusters thing.

    Family went shopping for mall and I was like—buy me a pizza and that new game on release.
    I forgot which game it was, I just wanted to play the game so much I forgot its name. Even as I kept playing in my tiki lodge, I still forgot the name. Maybe the name ain't important, it's just the loads of fun which counts. When people asked me, what game? I would just say, 'that game'. Since after all, that was the thing written in the box.

    A bigger question, what kind of game it was? There must be something people wanted to know, which makes a certain game good or fun. As for me, it didn't need any of these. Since, after all—that game could become every kind of game I wanted it to be.

    ...and that's how I basically got my sleep schedule screwed up. As a result, when we got back home, I was sent to a rehab and the rest of my family to a mental hospital.
     
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    Road 1-8 : Memory of That Day

    More often than not, I continued doing things I stopped a while ago after revisiting the past works I've done of similar kind. There's just something in it—not because it's good whatsoever. It was unique in a sense, that there were a lot of things in this world, many of them spectacular in any kinds, but amongst all of them—there's only a few, a minuscule few that's made by me.

    A difference which made it special, compared to merely mulling with possessions. When you made those work, no matter how good or bad, you can call it 'my own', instead of just referring it a 'I own'. Despite all of that, I wish to raise a question—what was the reason which made me start it all? I most likely came back to this contemplation once in a while when I felt stuck.

    I started working on my stuff when I was feeling depressed and on the verge of having a death wish. I started focusing heavily on it when I was in a stressful—nearly breaking down due to everyday tension. When things somehow calmed down, I laze around, doing nothing, not caring about it.

    That means, whenever I say goodbye to this, was the moment my depression was over. For how long would it be over? Maybe not that much, since I would kept coming back every now and then when I felt dejected somehow.

    I started working on a some kind of weird, perverted story which ended up going nowhere—in which I had to drop it midway. I kept going on and on, until I realized, it wasn't in my mind to write an actual story. I never really finished anything and end them well beside short ones, mostly the one-shots. All of the longer projects were mostly about, well, me jotting down some monologues.

    A lot of them felt like they were recycled over and over again, and I'm sure, that I probably had written something like this a lot. I had my qualms about myself being a repetitive person, guess that can't be much further than the truth. I was satisfied eating the same set of meals for 10 years in a row, probably more. When I was eating out, I always ate at the same place, ordering similar menus. When I was going for delivery order, I kept ordering the same menu at the same places.

    Everyday, I mostly sat in front of the computer and doing stuff, it hasn't changed every since a very long time. I was like, grew up with it and it became an integral part of me. The same thing with my room always being messy when it was left out, and how about when I tried drawing something, it was always the same subject, in the similar pose, altogether it was very simplistic and I was content with it, happy with it, even if it wasn't even good in the slightest.

    I spent loads of gaming time only on select few, and most of them could be considered rather repetitive stuff, which made me do the same shit over and over again to unlock different reward. I was happy with it, I was really happy when I could get a lot of rewards by doing easy peasy tasks over. I thought—how convenient it would be, if it worked this way.

    When it was easy, when it was rather predictable and it was guaranteed that the things would go as I wanted to—I could have fun for a long time. Most importantly, I realized, that I didn't need a lot of features to make the game enjoyable and addictive—it just needed to be a piece of cake, repetitive and lets me do the things as I like.

    Maybe for others, man, it was a boring as hell life, but for me, it was paradise. I didn't need a life of turmoil and unpredictable conflict. Though, even as repetitive I was, I couldn't stand stressful and tedious routine in which I couldn't do the things I wanted to. I could do repetitive stuff as long it was fun, and I could do it the way I want to. Though, apparently, life probably wouldn't give me that much a window of opportunity to live based upon my ideals.

    All of it brought me towards a recent event, I wouldn't disclose it in detail, I had tried my hardest to create something based upon my aspirations. I even had to go out my way and pushed the comfortable limits of what I would usually do. I didn't even want to do this in the first place, I just did it because I want to ease the burden on my family. I want their worries of me to finally end.

    At that time I felt the biggest disappointment in my life, just as the work was finally done, and all that's left was just doing the finishing touch—it was denied because of a stupid reason. I truly, had enough of doing it until its completion, I had endured a lot of pain just to get to that point. So, all of it was just the fruit of my efforts?

    Not like I had a choice in this matter though. I learned the hard way in the past—no matter how sincere you poured your soul into your work—it probably doesn't matter. No one else but you can see and appreciate the fruits of your own work. The saddest thing is, at a lot of occasions, I didn't even acknowledge the existence of the previous works I've made. I just left them be abandoned, be forgotten and denied of its existence.

    I didn't even appreciate my efforts so far, since I felt like I wasn't appreciated by others for it. Since, in the past, I felt like my best efforts were denied. Since no one wants to read it, might as well I stop, and quit forever. There's no worth doing it if there's no one that would ever, spend their time, and let me know whether my efforts had influenced them in some way or not, their thoughts about my ideals of life, and how it meant to them.

    I wish to say this, that I didn't work to be denied, or even ignored. I devoted my time to it, for someone to finally be able to listen, and let me know they actually did. On the surface, it might not be apparent that I actually wished the company of others, but I really appreciate if people would take their time to ask me how am I doing.

    Getting back on that disappointing event, I devoted almost one-and-half week to think about what I want to do for the future. I felt so drained of energy and during that time, I had a nervous breakdown to the point I thought I nearly died. It was apparent that I couldn't even risk touching that project again since it scarred a trauma so deep, my insides churned up.

    I didn't think they understood the pain I was going through, since they were fine on it, they must thought I'm also fine. Any more than that they would just mark me as incompetent. Sure, they know everything about me more than I ever did, since they've been through the same thing. That's why, most of time, I lied to them about things getting alright.

    I already closed my heart to them, thinking about having to argue and explain things to them just made it even more complicated. You know, none of my friends nor family, I didn't think any of them are even capable to get me out of this mess. I have lost faith and hope to them, I didn't think any of them even understood how I wanted things to be. Not even the ones I was having a lot of conversations with.

    None of them could solve my problems and help me out. It's always, me, me, me.

    Alright, that's enough.

    Even if they couldn't solve my problems, at least they helped a lot by listening to me. I probably didn't need anything—I just want someone to listen to me when I had something to say.

    At first, writing was a way for me to cope up with depression. As for now, I'm not really sure.

    I just came back to it when I felt like it, that's all.

    Hahaha.

    End of Road 1​
     
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    Road 2

    Sex is Good but My Hand is Better

    Road 2-1 : That Guy

    Anyways, one advice from me.

    Whenever you can write, just write whatever you can. Whenever you felt like writing just, do it, no matter what.

    Since there would be a lot of occasions where you couldn't even churn out your ideas no matter what. That juices of inspiration wouldn't last for long, especially as you went older.

    The time when you can still write might be much shorter than you think. That's how I basically came with the series of short write-ups where I can end it as soon as my motivation finally dried up.

    During this year, I felt really old. I looked up to my friends, even those younger than me felt as if they're also old. We're not like those kids in high school with nothing to worry about—just have to study and study. I had enough of studying after all these years.

    As I went outside the curicullum and went to do my own stuff, I had my own share of resentment where it comes to procedural stuff and having to do it according to the book. As I grew older, it was much harder for me to get accustomed to something new. I got affixed in some old habits that were hard to break and I was much more stubborn—at often outright denying the ideals that didn't stick with me.

    I live as if my ideals were the only way, outside of that was just plain meaningless. The basis of my philosophy lies in the freedom of choice. If not given a choice, one must fight for the power to make the choice they wished for. Something like a dilemma doesn't exist—it's merely a sign of weakness by succumbing to circumstances instead of beliefing in the most important thing—which is yourself.

    In between two choices that you didn't like, you will always have the third option, which is your ideal choice. At first, it might be unrealistic, especially when faced with certain circumstances.

    Let's just say for example, you worked your hardest in the project in which your boss tasked you. After all of the years of dedication, through all the lengthy roads of tedious tasks—he finally gave you the freedom you yearned for—doing something in which you got the prerogative to decide. After you've put all, regardless of all the pressure you had to endure—it ended up getting rejected by your boss because of reasons that were stupid and incomprehensible.

    You decided to rework on it again, but after all these disappointments, a terrible slump of having to be a corporate slave—you had lost trust and faith in everything. You began to think, maybe my work wasn't appreciated even a single bit. Yet, when you wished to quit your job and go someplace else, there probably won't be a single place left—you would be left unemployed, add that you laso had to provide for someone you care about, instead of just your own.

    There are times when I highly doubt my own abilities. In my mind, I always think, this is where I will stop—this is where I would just rot and die down. I have no more hope. I couldn't even finish what I started; I lost the resolve to fight. This is the best of what my talents would give me. I had nothing much, and I have to bear with it.

    I had similar situations where I was working on something that wasn't according to what I wanted things to be, so I got really lazy and kept being forced down upon by everyone around me. It came to the point I got into a nervous breakdown, quite a few times when the d-day was on. I felt like I was going to die, during that day before the results was up. Even when disappointment left a scar on my face, it felt much better than the anxiety before the storm.

    At least I could say, it was all over. It's not like I expected something out of the result—what's the most important, is just doing the best ,according to how I wanted things to be.

    After it was rejected, I felt like my work wouldn't be appreciated in any ways. I refused to change it, I refuse to add theories and add descriptions in a way I couldn't understand. Heck, even the original outline and procedures for the project was truly overcomplicated and unnecessary. I refuse to be continually denied of all my efforts because they didn't meet the procedures.

    Yet I knew full well, the amount of effort I put in this thing was bullshit, and I actually hate how mediocre it turned out. I thought, everything was going to work out as long as I submitted something—they just wouldn't care. My best effort wasn't actually much, since I harbored such intense resentment to how it was done.

    I had lost all interest in continuing, I felt like, everything else I made using this limiting mindset would just make me continuously churning out the worst kind
    of work that I couldn't even imagine. I truly wished to quit this charade and just do my own thing. Whether or not I would pass, I wouldn't even want to apply for a job or anything which required that kind of qualification or procedures.

    I just wanted to do something where I can fully be myself, without having to be pushed around by everyone else.

    Here comes the dilemma though. First thing first, I've been a disappointment for my parents and family for a really long time now, with all of my string of failures and nothing they coold be proud about. That's not the main thing—it's because regardless of how much I made them sad, they would always kept giving me hopes that I could do it, that I could finally succeed and pass it, so I could just be along like everyone else on board.

    My main qualms was another else.

    If only I had something in which made me do fine without their aid, such as way to provide for myself. It means something like looking for a job that I like, but I was deep in doubt, that I'm not actually good enough, and that by seriously pushing in its endeavor, I would be forced to learn the things I dislike, and went to even more shit than before. On things I usually like, I would end up hating them, would just be left out with even less freedom than before.

    Even if I became successful, it meant even more stress and lots of work to do, with tons of pressure and demand to meet the expectations of everyone. Both of which I hate, since I only just want to care about myself, the hell with what the others need. Yet, that wasn't always how the world will work, especially for the kinds like me, who didn't really have the talent to easily grasp the kind of life he wanted.

    It's more like, off from a bad place to a worse place when I think about trying to make a living by doing things I like. Yet, I wouldn't know for sure since I never tried. I was afraid of being rejected, first of all. I was afraid having to meet everyone's expectations and having to expose my once-personal world to an ugly group of masses which would judge me in the worst way possible. I just hate how the world seems to work.

    I couldn't stand to continue things I started, yet I couldn't ever go on to do the things I like. I had things I want to do, the third choice it was—but the idea of it was just so ridiculously unrealistic. I didn't even know how to start with this, and I wasn't sure on how I should do things in order to achieve it.

    To tell you the truth, I just wanted to live a life without having to suffer anymore. That I could live with peace, and do whatever I want, without being limited in any ways possible. Things include, money and power, things which would grant me a lot of things by being in my possession. Yet, I wasn't sure on how to start.

    I had my own resentment to being an investor since their ways of thinking were so complicated to me. I hated to learn all of the complicated stuff. I just wished for the riches to come naturally. I don't want to do anything, I just want to focus about things I want to do, and forget about everything else, and all would just be okay.

    Once again, I said, I wasn't sure about how I could achieve it. I just knew, that by writing it all down, I would surely break free of this dilemma and finally made the biggest decision in my life, for now.

    The turning point in which made me do this wasn't actually my own desire to reach for my goals and dreams—not that. If possible, I don't wanna fight at all in order to gain the power to make an absolute choice.

    It's just, very recently, I felt like something inside my soul was dying. I felt really weak and hopeless. I need something which could make my days burn with excitement, without having to suffer all those nervous breakdown, in which I would get everything, and losing nothing. I needed something to light those sparks again; I want my life be great and colorful-.

    I wished to just quit everything. Actually I've decided to quit a lot of times in the past, but were stopped by everyone else since I didn't have means to provide for myself and have no resolve to do so. The only way out was most likely trying to focus on how the means of getting money which suited me the best, the kind of money which didn't came from my parents or family, so I could finally live on my won completely and could finally say goodbye.

    ...though apparently I didn't care at all about working to get money, I just wished to have enough money without having to work at it. So in the end, I threw away my ideals once again and ran away from my problems.

    Just like always.

    In the end, my beliefs actually meant nothing.
     
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    Road 2-2 : This Guy

    At first it might appear as if I'm burning all the bridges which led me toward a safe and sound life. To me it looked the complete opposite, I was desperately trying to build a bridge in order for me to escape a forsaken land. One's heaven could be one's hell—their treasure might mean a piece of crap to me.

    Basically, what I did was nothing much—I finally made a big decision in my life. I knew from the very beginning, that what I was doing wasn't right and something was kinda off. Rather than it was something like a dilemma, I kinda knew it was one thing I've got to take no matter what. Last year, I made the same decision, and something got in my way, this time I would make sure for everything to pass through—since after all, I've got the power of the spirits with me.

    I knew that I made the right decision by listening to my own honest feelings. Or maybe I was just buying some few days, or maybe hours to live, since back then I was on the verge of death due to all the pressure piling up. I kept thinking, well perhaps I could just go back and finish this thing half-heartedly. I daresay not anymore. Something that I felt so unwilling to do, doesn't even deserve to be done at all.

    I'd rather accomplish nothing rather than having to create something that I couldn't even put my heart into. Though, I couldn't say the same for this writing. I was running away from my problems again when I wrote this. I thought, everything was going to be okay by just writing all my thoughts. I didn't have any other choice, this is the only thing I have left. The only power I had in my hand was communicating my thoughts and feelings.

    Besides of that, I had to rely on the spirits, whose aid probably wouldn't be apparent and I had to place my whole faith on something that might not be even there. I just thought, the ways to communicate with them might open up as I discover more and more about myself. Honestly speaking, I started churning all these thoughts due to desperation and pressure altogether. Though, unlike that thing I was unwilling to do, this thing, I poured my heart and soul into it.

    So please hear me out, if you have time.

    I have come to a point where I couldn't live without abiding by my own beliefs anymore. It's as if, whenever I tried to get off from it, it feels like my death was drawing near. It becoming an integral part of my own life force. It was the thing which sustained my life, while in reality, I probably should have died many years ago. Considering my current circumstances, my death would be much sooner if I didn't discover writing. A kind of activity in which I poured my utmost feelings into words.

    I guess, you could say it was like something people use to patients in critical condition in order to sustain their living. Writing was like a life-extending machine to me, at least as for now.

    First of all, let me explain my own reasoning as why the spirits might exist. Basically, in this life, people are not created equal. Some was born with an understanding family, and had all the opportunity to develop their talents and all the time to discover their own true calling. It seemed like their entire life was an easy sitting and there was no adversaries behind it—it was a completely smooth sailing. They had everything, money, talents, connection—lots of people who supported them and accepted who they were.

    ..and we got those who was born without any notable talents, in some family who's not the least bit understanding. Those thrown over in the depths of chaos where there's no time nor opportunity to grow, only to become slave to the circumstances. They most likely had dreams, the same with those who were born in such fortunate environment, but what about those without privileges? Why must they suffer while the others could live such an easy life?

    It was unfair, and we were forced to go along with it.

    So I thought, there must be some way for everyone to be able to live by their ideals, matter their circumstances. Especially those who felt they had no power available to them, but most of all, they had that burning desire to stand up for themselves. That's where the spirits came from—they grant incredible powers to those who are weak. For those who were getting stomped down and pushed all over, and getting all kinds of discouraging beliefs during their entire lives.

    Which in turn made them really powerful, rising far above those who didn't have to fight to earn a peaceful living.

    That's because I believe, my own God is fair. If there's any adversary He created, it's because He wanted to help me manifest my true potential and made me able to call the tremendous power of the spirits. Though, I didn't think that any of the adversary which came to me were those from God. It just happened by the turn of events by making my own choice. I brought this all upon myself, and it's due to my lack of wisdom, I did blame Him for all the misfortunes.

    In which I felt so dejected, upon realizing my own error. It's not God's fault all of this happened. It wasn't my own fault either. To think about it once again, it wasn't even a fault, more like a blessing. I had to fight against the flow of things for so many years now, and it's time for me to finally pen out the philosophy I've been refining through the times went by.

    With all of those disappointments and failures thus far, I've came to a conclusion.

    Instead of honing my craft, trying to know myself probably won't let me become something—at the first glance—but I believe, as I went further without yielding in or giving up, I would discover something much bigger than that. Finally attaining my own truth of life, and I earned it through a long and arduous fight. A lengthy stride of contemplation and self-discovery.

    I still wasn't sure how the power of the spirits' would affect me. I just knew at one point, there were some things outside of common sense that kept happening around me. I figured—they must be there, very close to me, I could feel their presence, now it's time for them to show themselves, so I finally know they were here, and I could count on them to release me from this peril. I was weak, too weak to even stand up on my own, but with their aid, I believe, I could stand up, and live my entire life, governed by my own ideals, living by my own rules.

    Just for me alone, everyone else doesn't have to be a part of it if they didn't want to. This, and only this will be the world I want to live in. An ideal wasn't just a theory, it was a goal I must strive for to keep on living.

    To appreciate life to its fullest, this what I must do. Though, that goes without saying, that my entire body and mind was so attuned to it.

    As for now, I think of it not as a point of no return, but a new beginning.

    Welcome, my new world.
     
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    Road 2-3 : These Guys

    I don't think I can do this at all. It's just to difficult and complicated for me to pull off. Most likely I have to drop out of school rather than having to cope up with all of this shit. After all of it was done and I had nothing much to do, I would start to mull over nothingness until I finally died in my sleep, all alone, without anyone noticing. So here would be my last words to you:

    I hate you all, since you cared so much to a good-for-nothing like me, sorry, that in my entire useless lifetime, I couldn't give back what you retards had brought upon me, since you guys actually owe me nothing. Feel free to do whatever you want with my possessions, I don't care about material things--but please delete everything in my HDD when you've done pillaging—do not read anything in my diary folder—not even my drafts.

    Feel free to use my account, so even if I died, everyone could still pretend that I'm alive, but please don't claim all of my shit works as your own. You could also close it down if you want to, I don't care, but let all the remaining memories of me be here. Even if I died, I want everyone to remember me for doing nothing notable whatsoever. At least for those who used to know me or be close with me, at least, please remember me as someone annoying or someone you hate.

    At least, wish for me to live much longer so you could hate me forever. If you want, I can go and wreak havoc everywhere so you guys would hate me a lot and actually be grateful that I finally died. Or well, you could always forget about me—not that I care if you don't remember, but if you do, I'd be grateful, no matter who was I to you.

    When I finally died, it doesn't matter if my corpse were burned down or I actually got a grave. Most likely there'd be a gravestone since my family's belief and customs highly suggest a proper burial site. Usually written with holy scriptures and such. I would like it to be something about sodomy that's written in the Old Testament, since the entire time, I felt really sorry for acting like such a faggot the entire time, and my death should record, most of all, the shame I actually caused for everyone.

    I'm really sorry, especially for being such a burden for my family. I hope, without me around, everything would be much better. That my siblings actually became someone, instead of just a thug like me. I wish for the world to be a much better place now that I'm gone. During my burial, I don't hope for them to come to the site. Rather, they just have to spread the news and party around the house.

    Feel free to sell all the possessions of mine as a memento, especially if you're a member of my family. I've been draining a lot of your money, and to this day, I have paid nothing back. If you want, before the burial, if there's any organs that is healthy, please sell it instead of donating it for science. So, when I left this world out of sudden, I could be freed from all debts. Lest, I didn't think it was even enough to cover all the costs of money, and even more than that, for all the shattered hopes and dreams I caused for all of you. No amount of remorse can make up for this.

    A proper burial might even be too costly.

    It was fine to left my corpse to rot in the open.

    I didn't deserve a proper burial like I proper human being, since I didn't live like a proper human at all. I worked no jobs, contributed nothing to the society, and above all that I was a masssive disappointment for everyone.

    Forget about what I said.

    It's fine for all of you to forget that I ever existed in the first place. Let my come and passing just be as silent as the swift wind that blows. Nothing special happened. It's just the day that I died, nothing happens. Everyone will go on about their lives as usual. The world will become a much better place without me around, and I'm happy with it. That's my contribution to the society.

    ...and so the closing curtain of my life has been drawn.
     
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    Road 2-4 : Which Guy?

    Yesterday you said tomorrow, but you've never actually done anything. I said you've done the right thing because tomorrow was a lie all along. We always had lived in the past, having to trace back the history of our parents, simply living their lives like they always were. As a change, you might want to say—I'll do it today, or I'll do it right now. We're not even in the present time yet. Even if you say, I did it, with the past tense at all—it's not really you who did it, you're just being controlled like a puppet.

    In this day and age, I believe free will was an illusion. We're simply scripted to do whatever our creator wants us to do for his own amusement. Either a meaningful or meaningless life didn't matter. Maybe you could say that the creator himself wouldn't have all the patience and dedication to watch every minuscule detail in all of the particles within the universe. I kinda agreed with that, he most would just focus on something interesting—everything else was just a result of chain reaction, based on the plethora of ideas he constructed to make the world works.

    He laid down the plans for the Deus ex Machina, which governed the integral laws in this universe. How it would expand—how it would live on and die down. It was like a computer program, but unlike something made by humans—it was always perfect. No one really knows the truth itself, all of it was just a theory and we're just select something based upon which was the most convincing.

    You might say, the creator was always there. He already had limitless knowledge, wisdom and power. I wasn't sure about the rest, like the experience to create a lifecycle of humans and such complicated ways they did interact with each other. Maybe he intended things to be, or might be not.

    The creator was filled with mysteries—he might exist; he might have not. All that I knew what was certain, the idea about the presence of a creator which governed the entire universe, helped uniting the people of this world, also pit them against each other. As for me, I wasn't sure about which group I belong in. I'd rather not be grouped by the masses; I prefer being alone in a quiet place.

    Going back to the things at hand, it might be convenient to say that I acted like this and ran away from my problems, wasn't even my fault. I wasn't even my free will since I had none. It wasn't my responsibility since I just happened instead of me instigating something. It was the will of the creator onto me, rather than me bringing this upon myself. I have no qualms about anything, and I have nothing to do with all of the things that happened.

    Every single bit of it wasn't my fault. No one and nothing should be blamed for this. It just happened. It was fate. Maybe it's just my own conclusion since it was something good. I wouldn't be sure if that fate actually led to something bad and totally unfair. Was all of the development so far was actually an escalation towards a good ending? Not really sure, but if it was, it might follow a similar format to a fiction. Almost every stories out there relled on conflict to be good.

    The difference between real-life and fiction though, while in fiction it was the conflict and development that was interesting, in real life it's basically the opposite—the recent happenings made you want to just run away from your conflicts and made you refuse to develop. Although yeah, that could also happen in fiction. You can write out any character you wished to be, whether they'd be willing to change themselves for the better, or they'd be some spineless coward who always would ran away.

    I thought about my good points. All I got in mind was my honesty. I would be very open about what I felt, but even so, I felt powerless for those who would just run their mouth and won't listen to me. If I had a choice, I don't need my life to be filled with those kind of people who would just force their ideals on me without trying to understand me at all. Even if it was my parents, even if it was my family, even if it was my friends. I hope they'd just die a horrible death for getting in my way—that's something I don't declare that often.

    Well, like I said before, no one was in the fault. I think it's their right to do so, but it's my right to ignore them and cease all communications whenever I felt like they wouldn't give me an opportunity or room to do my own thing.

    That aside, if my fate would lead to something bad, would I try to change it, or what was once a miserable fate was actually an escalation to a glorious triumph? In any case, nothing would go wrong, ever. What could possibly go wrong at all? It must had a meaning, I thought. There'd be something I could use to my advantage. Like the recent development made myself hurt and depressed a bit—at the same time my soul that once died had a resolve to burn once more.

    I tend to write a lot whenever I was feeling down or something. To be honest, regardless of all these bravado I felt my future was bleak. I had no confidence everything was going to work out since I had no plans on where to go, or any certainty that things in my life would go that well. If I had to get a job, it was the thing in which I could be honest with myself, and be with people who would accept me as I am.

    To be honest, I don't really mind long working hours with less pay and no rest. As opposed to my original belief that I'd prefer to be lazy and didn't have to work hard at all—I tried rethinking it once more. It was much better to feel tired from working so much, but at least achieved a lot of things, or in the worst-case scenario, tried my best, rather than having my soul dying and having to spend the days feeling empty.

    When I was being more open about myself, I felt that I wasn't alone in this world. Even though my views were rather despicable and selfish, there'd be people who cared about me. Even though most of them would just walk away and live their own life, I think there's always that someone who would hear me out, and that's the most important thing. In which their words and encouragement had the ability to change myself in less than a day.

    Once, I was feeling like I need to quit and abandon everything, and here I am, wanting to make the ends meet because of their encouragement. That's something my parents and family couldn't give me. They didn't look at me on equal terms—they just felt like they were just talking down to a child and expected me to do as they said.

    I want to say to them, if you actually think of me as an adult, no matter if you're much older than me or actually my parent, you will give me room to talk and listen to me instead of breathing down your words like a minigun. If you want me to be responsible, get away from my life as much as possible and let me carry my own burden when I need to. I don't give a shit about your wishes, but I care about my own happiness. If you managed to care about how I'm feeling, then you earned my respect.

    No need to tell me every single thing like I was just a clueless kid who need to be told how to do each damn stuff in his life by you.

    I know, I know, enough of these remarks and mockery about me being selfish. It's my life, I'll do whatever I want. I wasn't bothering you or anyone else by posting my thoughts. If you don't like it, you don't have to read it. Heck, everyone else would just ignore it—why would you waste your time actually trying to care?

    If anything, it's up to you for not being honest with yourself when you want to. Heck, you can even be honest and still not saying anything if it's what you truly felt. Who am i to judge?

    Well, not that being open was an integral part to the living of every single human being on earth. A lot of us would prefer not saying anything and live in silence without any kind of rambling to random strangers. Especially if you're a secret agent, a spy or someone who had a terrible secret. Well, anyone else in general could use some little bits of privacy. That, by not speaking your mind at all or take everything you want to say to a close friend who would definitely hold it in discret

    As for me, the worst thing that would happen was probably just my parents and family finding out the true me I had always been. Well, if I had a fulfilling job or so and could live on my own without their aid, I could just say—well so what? I realize, that more than ever, I need to find a job, or at least something to do, in order to make those people respect me.

    Not that I was confident I would get it. In worst case scenario, I would just went back to them and experience hell again, but well, it wasn't really the end. As long as I still got my computer and the time to write something, there finally would be a time in which I'd make my break and become someone who could stand up for themselves. I really had that pessimistic outlook because, hey, it was what I was honestly thinking.

    I might tend to run away from my problems, but when it comes to my feelings, I hate being blindly optimistic in cost of ignoring what I truly felt at that time. When I thought I couldn't do something, and when I thought it was impossible, I'd outright say it. Which made me realize, there are shit ton of things I kept buried in my mind, because I didn't really want people to find out what they felt, that I'd better make it a secret.

    Now that I thought about it, well it's just something stupid and delusional—they wouldn't take it seriously at all. In fact, it might make them either cringe or laugh in it. It was a win-win situation since first, I wanted to get something out in my mind, and they could also listen since it was cringy enough for them to keep on paying attention.

    I do love attention, but only a little bit of attention. More than that would be some really, really annoying circumstance.

    So, to sum up all of these long-winded prattles, I need to find a job that suits me after all of this shit was over—whether I make it or not, the hell with it, but first things first, I need to be honest about myself and being as open as I can to those around me I can trust. Without them, I have no one else which I would be able to talk with these things.

    Even with all the long hours of thinking and shit, I didn't realize the importance of communicating my ideas to others, on how that would inspire them to think about the possible solutions to their problems and mine. Just as what I felt when I was feeling down and tried typing my questions in Google, like for example: how do I make writing fun? How do I write a short story? I really hate my job (even though I haven't been in a job as long as I lived).

    Actually I've been working on something, I translate stuff into English for a comic series from the original language, I was recruited by the artist himself—he also did the story to this one. I wasn't really doing much, just merely doing my own thing and they praised me for its quality. Been a while since I've done something for others. I never actually saw the window of the opportunity since I was living in a cave. Had no connections that would net me some jobs which I could probably do well.

    At first, well, I thought the ideas about people having connections was actually some bull, that I could just succeed on my own. Well, I didn't realize the importance of their words, especially those coming from those with real-life experience.

    As superficial and shallow-sounding it was, it's a logical option to get along with someone, even if you disliked them, when they prove to be an useful connection. What matters is you could benefit from them and they could benefit from you—after you get the money and you didn't need them anymore, feel free to forget ever establishing relations with them again. Well, that wasn't really my thought, I just heard it from someone and they might either be right or wrong.

    I was just merely pointing things out. Well, I still had a long way to go before I actually could apply for a suitable job. First things first, I probably should tone down my negativity a bit when interacting with others. Since I already got this post of a shithole of written work, I could just dump everything else here nad left the good things in the face.

    Well, for people to accept me as I am, I think I need to start little by little in spite of throwing them off by opening up my ugly side so bluntly. I was working step by step. I tried to be open about my life to someone close around me. I need all the help I can get, I need their support, even if it's just the very least they can give.

    Why was it so important though? What about the ideals of self-reliance I always seem to held in high regards? It is simple, I honestly didn't think I'm strong enough to be on my own. In my honest thoughts, I believe I couldn't accomplish a single damn thing by myself, not even this kind of writing since it's due to outside influence which net to stress which pushed me forward to make this possible.

    Most important at all, I believe I should be writing this, since when I felt down and there's no one to console me, I sometimes searched for random things on the internet, using keywords which made it sound as, I had a problem, I had a crisis in my life and I need help. From that attempt, I came across a multitude of real-life stories in which captured my heart when I read it.

    I used to hate reading, especially boring things. I didn't really get into reading fiction whatsoever. I think, most of these written in the books have nothing to do with me. Whatever happens, it won't be something which gave me encouragement when I'm feeling down with things in life. It was written to entertain others, and made to impress people, rather than speaking straight from the heart. It was made to sell out, above anything else.

    Nothing of value would be gained from it. Reading was a tiring task for me, especially if I had to go through all of these batch of texts which told me nothing I wanted to know, and a lot of difficult words and sentences I couldn't seem to understand.

    Then I came to read an actual life story that's written straight from the heart, and it inspired me to better myself, in a sense that I should've be more open. That I wasn't strong, and by pretending to be strong, it wouldn't get me anywhere.

    Even if fiction in general wasn't the thing I was looking forward, more often than not, I came toward the things I like, and they taught me a beautiful life lesson. The key of being strong lies in acknowledging that you're weak, and accept your weakness as a foundation for your strength. It was fine to be weak and frail, it's fine not wanting or be able to become someone who could stand up to life.

    Just try and love yourself as you are, not those you want to be, but in heart, you don't actually want to.It's okay not to change at all. You don't have to change, nothing needs to change unless it's finally their time.

    As for me, I think I do change a lot in even less than a day—as I said before. As a closing note, I would like to thank my friend who opened my eyes by his words, and were caring enough to break open my stubborn shell and ignited my soul to finally do something that I can only do right now—whining about everything I had in life.

    It wasn't something even remotely cool, but well, screw that, I just gotta do what I can do. Since this was getting too long, I probably would just end this here, and there most likely would be a lot more things to come in the following days.

    Thanks a lot for taking your time to read this long-ass rant.
     
  16. Fairyfly MODERATOR

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    baru sempet baca dan komen, gomen nasai :hmm:

    yah, bacanya mirip2 buah pemikiran sendiri sih, tapi satu hal yang menarik disini adalah bahwa agama jadi buruk karena pengikutnya sendiri yang fanatik. true.

    Gak salah emang mengajak orang mengajak kepada sesuatu. tapi menjelekkan hal lain ya itu lain hal.

    galau antara mau memilihi zona nyaman dang mengejar mimpi ato ngjar realitas, ya :iii:

    maa, sampe sekarang pun saia masih galau kok. coba seimbangin dua hal itu aja akhirnya :nikmat:

    as long as we have our own happiness, hmm, I like it :hmm:
     
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    mungkin buat ke depan isinya bakal jadi suatu rant / monolog yang membuat tidak nyaman :hihi:

    anyway, thx a lot udah nyempetin datang kemari :cambuk:
     
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    Road 2-5 : The Sun That's Made in China

    What is the thing that describes best a state of happiness?

    One indication that was clear was, when I finally decided to stop writing out. When I'm happy, I can make do by simply stating that I'm happy, and it's fine.

    The words like, everything's going well or so. Without any conflict and all, there's just nothing much to write about.

    So I thought, when all of those depressing moments were over, rather than becoming a traWumatic part of my memory, a lot of it passed me by as if none of it ever happened.

    Which is cool I guess. In all honesty, the only moment I wrote lengthy ass monologues were the times when I felt depressed.

    Maybe I shouldn't really be an Author, since the only moments I write stuff, was when I felt depressed, and I didn't want my days to be riddled with such moments.

    Guess that's fine.

    I don't need to be anything as long as I'm happy and content with my life.
     
    Last edited: Feb 24, 2016
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    Road 2-6 : Chip

    You know, there's that one point where you had such amazing dream, it felt so irritating when it's finally time to wake up. So, I'd probably just write these here. One of the first things I've remembered was about a retired admiral, 48 years old at that time. He went to the forest in some endemic island due to rumors that a small group of super-powerful villainous creatures had been massacring everyone around there.

    He devised a strategy with the survival of his army in mind. He would make them focus on firing projectile weapons covered in the most powerful toxin, and he would use the giant lizardmen, about three of them, to block the enemies—which appear to be hiding in enormous cardboard boxes. When they prepared themselves to charge, with the lizard men serving as the tanks, something pop out—one of them was the admiral's younger brother. The admiral wondered why he was turned into a size so gigantic.

    After a brief moment of exchanging attacks, they ceased fire. The next thing happened, the little brother lived in some little Chinatown with his happy family, opening up ready-to-eat meals. The admiral now retired his job and focused on being a war movie actor. In a similar place, two little girls were being cursed by an evil witch, which made their condition deteriorate. In a state of pinch, they learned magic themselves—in which they casted altogether until they regained their top condition.

    Barely escaping death, they parted ways. One of them turn into a young man and lived in a tight-quarters in which had 3 girls and 1 other guy living, the caretaker was a middle aged man. There was a crack in the room, but the magical guy was exploring it by controlling the character in his phone game. He pushed the nasrrow block and slid all the way, his character shrunk and fell into the narrow abyss—and there came a warning:

    About the dangers in real life if one turned small forever. It was pretty much the same for all others with peculiar responsibilities. The game asked if he regretted it with his heart, with the implication of giving him another chance to turn back. He just tapped at the choice, alright I get it already, so please help me.

    Later he found out, his mother was a really hot woman, dancing out the streets with her firm chest wide open, only covered by her red hair. She was still really young, probably even around his age. He wondered—that couldn't be possible. The next thing he knew, he had a blond-haired celebrity sitting on his lap—who treasted it like a comfy chair and just sat there.

    On the window, there was a display of a movie, as if the whole windowsill rows were a part of one wide screen. It was a superhero movie, showing two similarly dressed hero wearing all-black outfit covering from head to toe. When they ran together, one of them lagged behind and got caught by the authorities, in which decided to pay it off by throwing loads of money.

    After such stimulating weekend, he met the magical girl who was once his friend. She was wearing a school uniform and had her pink hair tied in pigtails. She said she was empty with all of these charade in real life. Both of them changed back to their original form and departed to a middle of nowhere, in which they can be themselves.
     
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    Road 2-7 : Acknowledge

    Yesterday I watched a music show, it's about someone who was in a band that's completely different than what he wanted things to be. He wasn't appreciated doing the things he liked, being himself--but he was worshiped as one of the independent scene's greatest acts in his alter ego. He had the talent for playing that peculiar music, even if he himself claimed to dislike that stuff.

    As the show went on, he showed a lot more focus and dedication to his work, almost completely abandoning his own musical preferences. Though, during the ending scenes, he went back playing the things he liked. The show, from the start to finish, was entirely meant to be comedic, but it had great music and the topic itself was really intriguing. It brought about a lot of questions in my head, one of the most important one was:

    Maybe it didn't really matter what you want to do and how you want things to be. The most important thing is doing what you CAN DO WELL, and also the things that a LOT OF PEOPLE will like. He decided to devote himself on that kind of music, because people need him. It wasn't because of a selfish desire like, they gotta accept him as he were—it's about giving what they truly wanted.

    Thinking about it once again, OTHERS PROBABLY WON'T CARE WHO YOU ARE AND WHAT YOU TRULY WANT TO DO. They would only see what they like and move along when they see nothing of sort. It was a logical thing, to give what they want, something that you can do best. What you want to do doesn't really matter.

    It was something which merits you a future, unlike a truly selfish thinking like, no matter what, I will make my own choice and I will be myself no matter the circumstances are. Yet, even though I knew it was rather redundant and pointless being myself, I just couldn't get to adapt their way of thinking. I want others to notice my efforts, but I felt dead inside, when I had to force myself to be someone I really wasn't.

    My beliefs were stupid, yet I couldn't live without it, even for a moment. Even if it wouldn't amount to anything, I could only see myself being that kind of person. I wasn't sure what things I can do well, or what things that people seek from it. I just know the things I wanna do. Mostly I just want to dream about nice things and disregard a lot of stuff happening in real life, that I didn't have to concern myself with any of it—just live free without any kind of notable pressure.

    Which brought me this question again: what do I want to do anyway?

    Playing games whenever I want.

    Being able to just do whatever I like without being burdened by anything.

    Able to have enough money by myself without an obligation to work.

    As for now, I can say that I've achieved pretty much what I want, but I know it's pretty much temporary. Right now I was just aiming to make this moment last much longer.

    I sure hope, as each moment pass by, I will become much stronger, that life itself would bend down to my wishes. Maybe it's just some wishful thinking, but not sure if I can live by any other way, anyway. The only thing I could do, is just take it all the way to the end, hoping to see what I can make of it, so to say.
     
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    Road 2-8 : Country

    At some point of time, I wonder why I suck at drawing so much. To be said, I couldn't even think of anything if I didn't copy paste the reference pic to the top left or top right of my workspace while I tried to do some sketch. I began to think, even though I really like looking at these anime pictures, when I saw my own, I felt ashamed of what I did.

    Even if the latest ones were much better than the past ones, it couldn't be helped that when I stare at my drawings for long enough, I began to hate it. I used to think, sometimes, when I finished one sketch after a while—I said to myself: well it's been a while, another fanart of the anime characters I want to preserve in my memory, time to upload it as a compilation to Pixiv if it's already enough.

    Not long after, my artist friend uploaded a similar kind of art, or just shared the works of others who were in the same field--I began to hate myself once again. Seriously though, was they really the ones should be blamed for me feeling bad? It was all about them and it all ends up with me self-depreciating, things like, man they got all the talent and determination to work hard, and I had no talent and such. I began to think life might be unfair in that regard.

    Well, not like that I know their entire history of drawing. What kind of things they learned, how motivated they were, what inspired them, how did they practice, and all their other activities which made them as good as they are currently. I looked back to myself, about my days being spent lazing around, doing nothing much.

    When it comes to drawing, well I just do it for fun, I'll use it as an excuse over and over again when they spent time trying to correct my ways, especially about anatomy. They linked me that Andrew Loomis book again, in which I read quite a lot times before and didn't really understand how the hell could someone pull that kind of terrific stuff. It had some really complicated diagrams and something titled 'studies' and stuff—I was like, nothing to do here—it's some real hardcore stuff.

    For the other ways, they say practice, but man, there were times like, I did about 30 pictures per day, and that's also the time when I believe I was making the slowest progress compared to any other artist out there. A long while doing that and I could only do a stiff standing pose. I kinda thought, man what the heck happened?

    I didn't really understand, what was going on? Why am I here? What am I even doing? I remember when I started though, I was looking at a site called Manga University. I felt rather nervous since before I started drawing again, I always felt nervous about drawing animu girls. One of the tutorials actually shown a way to draw quite some nice tits—heh.

    There were also ways to measure the proportion and draw various poses and viewpoints of the character by using circles. Since I didn't have a drawing tablet at a time and I wasn't dextrous enough to use a mouse, I just tried it with mechanical pencil and paper. Never felt so excited before, when I went to a nearby stationary store to buy some circle templates. Nowadays, it was all using tablet, and I swear I haven't had an actual pencil or pen in my grip for weeks.

    From that point on, I drew famale characters mostly, and that's when I started to practice quite a lot compared to years before, and I did so in secret. I didn't want my family members to find out about my drawings, especially since a lot of them were drawn naked or in some questionable attire or poses. I did so by looking at some pictures from magazines and newspapers and try to copy the form into a piece of paper. More often than not, it didn't even turn out right.

    Well, a lot of it was really bad, at least compared to the time I actually got a drawing tablet and began to practice on it regularly. I kinda prefer using the tablet, since using paper was kinda mess. Each time I actually finished a sketch, I kinda feel like erasing it, and it had so much stuff going on to move that sketch into a scanner and also editing a lot other shit, not to mention all the dirty scribbles and crackles in the paper, before it could actually show up clean enough.

    Most of the reason was, I didn't want to leave a physical evidence behind, especially if I drew something lewd, and it's really a pain in the ass to get things going. Glad that I received quite a bit of money during the New Years back, that I was able to buy this. It was rather expensive for the amount of money I had, but it was well worth it, but as for now, I wasn't really sure how to proceed.

    My days of learning the fundamentals were long gone, now as I looked up the stuff again, my mind went dizzy and I was incapable of processing all the old methods and just do everything my wey, lest nothing would actually be done.
    So there I thought, what did these guys had in mind, which made them continue drawing until they became so good at it?

    As for me, I just drew because I'd like seeing naked girls with nice titties. Back then, my supplies were rather limited and I had to make do with this poor drawing, though as for now, when I open facebook, the only thing in my timeline are porn pictures of anime girls. It was everywhere: in the forums, on my messanger, and also in the games I play and the shows I watch.

    It was goddamn everywhere.

    Most likely, I was thinking about this too much. Maybe I was having a mid life crisis since I was currently 25 years old but yet I still didn't have a job, nor a worthwhile thing I was able to do. Most of all, I didn't even have a girlfriend.

    What? Why would you think it's much better if I actually had a boyfriend? I'm not really into that thing, alright?

    In any case, I was desperately seeking for things I can do really well, something I can be proud of. There are things I was originally proud of, but most of time, they all amount to more shame than pride. I wasn't sure how I can be much better in my own way,.

    The only thing I can sure of, is time. I know, even when I'm being so damn slow on catching up, maybe in five or ten years later, I could actually come up with something decent. I guess, the only thing I have to keep in mind is being patient.

    Be as patient as possible. Yet, I know full well, I've running out of time, I'm getting older as the time goes.

    ...but yeah, since my friends would also be an old fart, who cares. At least they live long rather than dying young. Not sure how long people will live, but I'd like to live a peaceful life for a really long time. Dunno why, but I'm curious about what kind of wonderful things that will happen in the future, and while I'm at it, I wanna see the interesting things as much as I can.

    I want to see my friends grow old and die, until I'd be the last remaining left, and when there's no one left, it's time to spent another hundred years trying to look for someone that's actually a lot younger, and went back to play the games again.

    Have lots of fun indefinitely. If death doesn't exist in my own life, I will learn how to live, in order to make things very exciting for the longest time, ever.

    End of Road 2​
     
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IDWS, dari kami yang terbaik-untuk kamu-kamu (the best from us to you) yang lebih dikenal dengan IDWS adalah sebuah forum komunitas lokal yang berdiri sejak 15 April 2007. Dibangun sebagai sarana mediasi dengan rekan-rekan pengguna IDWS dan memberikan terbaik untuk para penduduk internet Indonesia menyajikan berbagai macam topik diskusi.