What happens when you cannot remember half of the things you do in life? When you need to keep track of said things, so as to not get into awkward situations? Then you add a borderline sociopathic girl into the mix?
Simple, you get a dairy/journal...
"Um, okay." Tyler replied, watching as Misty rocked back and forth on her feet from excitement. He had not noticed her approach, or her enthusiastic rocking, until she had all but jumped out of her skin with her announcement. Her exclamation was enough to break the trance he had entered, effectively halting his brooding.
"In fact, there's absolutely nothing wrong with me."
"That's great." Tyler replied, turning his body to fully face Misty. He continued to watch as she plopped herself down in the seat next to him, quickly relieving herself of her belongings.
"You got your brain drilled and it kinda made me feel like a hypocrite so, I went and got tested." Misty explained her announcement. She understood now what people meant when they talked about the relief of knowing. As she displayed her letter of diagnosis on the table, Misty felt as though a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.
"I'm glad I could be off service."
"What were you reading?"
"What?" Tyler asked. He felt as though he had never had a conversation with Misty, that had not left him confused at one moment or the other.
"You know, the paper you stuffed into your pocket. The one you were glaring at as I made my way over. The one that you're thinking of right now."
"I'm not–"
"I appreciate you trying to, but I do care about what goes on in your life as well." Misty's interruption had Tyler staring at her with his mouth agape. Pulling the note out of his pocket, he scrunched it tightly in his hands, and frowned as he thought back to the words littered on the page. As an artist, he loved paper. But, with this particular page, he would have no trouble burning it. In fact, he would gladly burn the tree it came from, destroying the other pages that were produced alongside it.
As a likeable human being Tyler had engaged in many conversations, which would always lead back to his University life, and in turn his area of study. Most of the people he conversed were surprised when he told them he was doing a dual degree. He had gotten used to watching their surprise morph into confusion as he revealed the specifics of the degree: 'Bachelor of Business/ Bachelor of Fine Arts (Visual Arts)'. Not many people understood how one could mix the two together.
"It's from my attorney. It seems as though time has run out." Tyler laughed bitterly after his confession. As someone who had been dealt one of the best hands in life, he never really worried about anything. Breezing through University whilst honing in on his art skills, he had created the perfect bubble for himself. But, this particular piece of paper had reminded him of the responsibilities that haunted him. Art was Tyler's passion, no doubt about it. The fact that he was the sole heir to his parent's multi-billion dollar company was just secondary.
"Time?"
"My parent's legacy," Tyler let out bitterly.
"I thought you were your parent's legacy." Misty said, a frown forming on her face mirroring Tyler's.
Tyler let out a brief laugh, a smile replacing the frown that had taken over his face. "Only you... only you Misty."
"Only me what?"
"Could make me smile at a time like this." Tyler confessed, before running a stressed hand through his hair. "I don't want to sound ungrateful or anything, but... what am I supposed to do with a company? My brain hasn't fully developed for crying out loud!"
"Okay." Misty had no idea what she was agreeing to, but it felt appropriate in the moment.
"I have to take over the company soon. I know I've been studying business, and I've grown up knowing the ins and outs of the company, but..."
"It's not what you want to do?"
"No, I do. It's not that. It's just... I don't know how to do both. I don't know how to run my parent's company in a way that would make them proud, without giving up my passion."
"The common consensus that I've come across in life. Whether it be movies or real life interactions is that... parent's just want their children to be happy. Which personally, I find to be ambiguous. Because, happiness can be boiled down to chemicals in our brain right? Opioids produce those chemicals, and then there's murder, psycho's derive pleasure from that. So, when parents tell their kids that they want them to be happy, do they really mean they want them to be happy?"
"Misty," Tyler interrupted with a laugh. "There's a universal understanding that the expression is meant in the confines of certain boundaries."
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