A Beautiful Catastrophe - Book 1

Chapter 22 - Reminiscing My Past Life

If I were to describe my past life in colors, still not knowing the things I knew today, everything would be blue and grey from the moment my dad left us.

I could still remember the time when everyone was busy preparing for college, and I was busy trying to look for a job since my mom's body gave up too early. She had always been sickly so there was nothing else we could do. Hora's and Ken's family wanted to help us but mom decided not to abuse their kindness since they already helped too much trying to make me graduate high school—with all the fees and things that needed to be paid. I didn't even want to burden them with such things especially since college was not just a 1 or 2 year thing. Aside from that, we needed money for our daily necessities. We already used up our remaining money and we couldn't possibly just rely on them on that matter as well. And so, I went and looked for a job instead.

When I was finally able to land a job at a coffee shop whom the owner kindly took me in despite my age and inexperience—since technically, I wasn't allowed to work yet—I began to realize one of the realities of life. I made sure to train myself and work as hard as I could. But sometimes, working hard doesn't equate to great results. Sometimes, I would fail making coffee or get the orders wrong, and the customer would get angry at me. Some customers would be nice, but some would be too mean that they would even swear at you or slap you as if they owned your life. All my youth, my mom and dad never hit me, and a stranger would do it to my face. I cried so hard back then.

When I turned eighteen, I decided to get myself a more decent job, and also higher paying. My brother would need to go to high school and I needed more money for him. I applied many times, but there wasn't any company willing to take a non-college graduate like me except... call-centers which belonged to the BPO industry (Business Process Outsourcing). Same with the coffee shop I used to work in, they placed me into a project that dealt with customers—CSR or Customer Service Representative was my job. And I had to say, working there was one hell of a job. I had to speak for 7.5 hours a day or more, 5 times a week, and I could only get a couple of vacation leaves which sometimes, if the business needed, would be rejected.

I remembered getting sore throats many times over, being yelled at and cursed at by customers multitudes of times, even our Team Leader would get angry at me, too. And they would all blame it on my age—I was too young to understand where the customers were coming from, like how my workmates didn't get along with me well since I was a child to them. My opinion didn't matter, my ideas weren't so brilliant, and many other negative things.

Perhaps it was because of all those things combined together that I once thought of ending my life. I blamed a lot of things... I wished for a lot of things... but none of them happened. If only they would stop and listen... and understand this child that they spoke of, maybe, I wouldn't have hated my life too much. Plus the fact that I was trying not to regret giving all my hard-earned salary to my family, not even spending the bare minimum for myself—holding back on buying things I wanted, feeling sorry for myself for my unfulfilled potential, and all that stuff.

I graduated valedictorian, but it was all for nothing. There was barely anything I needed it for. At the end of the day, what I needed was money for my family. So I just had to gulp it all down, persevere and be strong, even if I really hated my job. It wasn't the life I wanted to have. I wanted to dream and fulfill that dream. I wanted to be successful and most of all... I wanted to be happy.

It was during those very dark times that I began finding joy in reading fantasy books. Perhaps it was the fact that they were fantasy that made it easy for me to focus on it and temporarily forget the wretched world I lived in, allowing me to escape. Every free time I got, I would dedicate it to reading because every free time I got, I would want to escape and not deal with the ugly reality.

As I continued to read, little by little, my blue and gray surroundings began to acquire more colors in it. Some books would entertain me and make me laugh so loud that you'd mistake me for a lunatic if you saw me in such a state. Some books would make me feel at peace, while some would make me cry. Some would make me feel heard and understood, while some would make me feel loved and treasured. Most of all, they would teach me wonderful lessons, inspiring me, and giving me hope to continue on for the next day.

Yes, it was because of all those things combined together that made me love reading so much that I could spend my life doing just that. That was why when Kai asked me that question, there was only one thing I could think of—reading. What surprised me, though, was what he told me after I answered why I loved reading—which I only gave him a tiny bit of the whole truth.

Kai asked me, "In that case, why don't you try writing a story yourself?"

I never knew how that question would open a whole new world for me, in this new life I was given.

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