Azur Lane: Under Development

Chapter 16: Resent

 "Hey mom. It's me. Your son who promised to write every month as I left and you cried goodbye. It's been about five months since then, and two months since your last letter. I had agreed to write because I thought it'd make you feel better, not because I planned on writing. That was a mistake. Now I'm not sure if you'll even get back to me even after I send this letter. I wonder why I always have to suffer the hard way before ever learning from my mistakes. Is this how the other cadets felt when I burst past them, unable to implement and improvise tactics at speeds they could not possibly comprehend?

"If I had the choice, I would throw all this talent away for some semblance of a normal life. God knows why I got put in this position. A computer would do the same job as me, but not nearly as high maintenance. All they need is air conditioning, power, and they'll happily lap up any inputs and give you answers at record speed. I need to eat, sleep, drink, shit, and require constant attention lest I do something stupid. And more than half the time, when I sit at the holotable, I wonder why I do this. Of course, everyone knows why I need to move little pieces around a grid. But I certainly don't want to do it. I'm sure someone else can do an equal or better job than me. If it were up to me, I'd rather be working some shitty corporate office job from 9 to 5, drink myself black on weekends, and eventually die a grandfather and with a legacy.

"At least I'd be happy then. I certainly don't feel happy here. It took me a while to name the gaping, hollow feeling that had been dragging on me for a long time. I'm lonely. I eat alone, I sleep alone, I talk to myself. I make up scenarios that are anywhere but here.

"Dad drilled into my head since I was young that life was full of doing things you didn't want to do. He said that when I didn't want to do the chores, do my homework, go to school. Even here, where I'm several thousand miles away, his words ring in my head. Well, dad, I've been doing things that I don't want to do for over two decades now. I don't feel nearly as satisfied as anyone else I know. The days I do check social media everyone is smiling at humble and luxurious locations alike, in the company of friends or family or both. Maybe they're faking it. I hope to God they're faking it. Otherwise they're leaps and bounds ahead where I'll ever be.

"I don't really see a way out, either. I'll be here, in the same place, unable to move forward or backwards. While everyone leaves for places unknown, I'll still be here. Stagnant. Maybe that's all I really deserve in my lot in life."

—

It'd been a long time since the commander last cried. When he was younger, he was told not to cry because Santa wouldn't like it. As he got older, he developed the notion that crying was a sign of weakness. These days, crying was an inconvenience. It came with strong emotions that he didn't really feel anymore. Everything came in persistent aches that didn't beget crying.

So it came as a surprise that after the final sniffle and tissue, he felt better. He had felt pathetic while crying. Being brought to tears by the insistence of someone much younger knocked a hole in his pride. It dredged up moments that he'd kept buried for a while; memories which he could not forget. When he had felt weak and powerless. When he was egotistical and an embarrassment. When he was selfish and callous and hurt others blindly.

Unicorn at some point fell asleep, so he carried her to his bed and went to lie on the couch outside. He wondered how many times he'd make another person cry as a result of his own problems. And while he enjoyed the attention of someone who cared greatly, all it meant was that those he befriended signed up for more than a tenuous relationship. It included him and all of his baggage. Something which he selfishly wanted versus something which would be good for others besides him.

He truly was the worst kind of person. Baiting people in, burning bridges, and pushing them away. Over and over again until they were finally fed up with him and let him be by himself. But he could not deny that the night had been cathartic for him. As much as he could rationalize away how bad of an influence he was to others, the fact remained that had Unicorn not approached him on her own free will, he would have had another sleepless night troubled by more thoughts of the unproductive variety.