Great Complex

The World x Disguised x Rotten

21/12/2002

Shokai High School

11:59 A.M.

This day was yet another radiant one, the sun shines with its radiance upon our green-like region, making lifeless and depressing surroundings come to life, as though they had been reborn themselves.

The wind acts as an ornament, moving with swiftness and flaccidity inside the classroom windows, with softness, it flips my long, charcoal-coloured locks sideways.

I looked outside the classroom's window, the professor's voice was an audible buzz within the class.

The fluffed, white clouds and oceanic skies act as its stage, castle, and the home it comes back to. The sun and its beautifully magnificent stage; the one which masks and hides this horrid, and disgustingly rotten state of this god-haunted, man-handled, aggressively, yet passively violent world.

Its majestic stage camouflages every horror, like a disguised watch tower that guards a face within its walls, secured and safe.

Is today yet another day of disguised grief, sorrow wallowing, and boredom. . . ? Probably.

Though the blinding sun beams upon it with grace, calling this world rotten was an understatement of the real predicament (and curse) being born within it came with, dying with boredom would not be as worse, or deteriorating as rotting within oneself while everyone watches; what they watch is something that passively lays upon the surface (an illusionary, shield-like mask of my face, perhaps).

-That is a good thing for sure, for such feelings are to be hidden, internalised, and squashed, until I die-no, not even until that. I certainly won't let these feelings linger much more than necessary or is needed in my own mind for the sake of my sanity.

"Seiji-san, could you please translate the passage in french to japanese on page 398 for us?"

I nonchalantly stood upright from the chair I had been sitting on, making it screech a little from my movement, the brown-haired teacher looked at me with her shiny, maroon-black eyes expectantly, the sun shining upon her brown, curly hair softly, making it adorned with a honey-coloured lighting at its roots.

Her sudden question had snapped me out of my early morning daydreaming, and entranced thoughts, while looking out of the window.

As usual, I could feel all my classmates' eyes staring at my back (fools!), it was all accompanied with soft, audible whispers.

I began translating the text in spite of it all: "The promise which the Great Mother had bestowed upon our fields, land, and gardens steadily regrows even when chopped, never-ending and abundant -she knows that our care for the gifts of nature she has bestowed upon us is on par with normal, mundane, simple task which need be done with slowness and a practised grace that is accompanied with a kind, yet knowing smile."

"Thank you, Seiji-san-now, onto the analysis of the translated text, what the text which shows is the worship which the people-"

The teacher's voice droned on for what felt like hours, before the bell finally rang and it was time to go home.

School Grounds

5:10 .P.M.

As of the last three years, the school had decided to release us an hour before the usual time we go home due to the rampant sexual predators walking and wandering around, looking for new, unsuspecting targets at these late hours.

It seems that as the world is waking up to their already existing beings, they had gotten bolder and sharper, that is what people like to claim, and it is quite a popular opinion; that is very much untrue, for these pests have been around forever and won't be purged or gone that easily when they sit comfortably within system that rewards and benefits them for the 'targets' they 'get', and 'tarnish'.

The sun had already been setting, it left behind golden trails that mixed with the fading of the blue sky, as well as trails within the clouds and skies, a group of birds flew over while chirping loudly.

I sauntered towards the school's exit as I vacantly looked at
the hurrying birds within the skies. Suddenly, a powerful gust of wind shortly hit over the area they were heading to. . . leaving behind (or bringing with it ) pink-ish purple rose or flower petals (what? ).

I went over to take a better look at what was happening-indeed, there were a variety of coloured flowers of soft, pastel pink and purple scattered on the school's ground, some of them were of dull dark colours (beautiful. . . perhaps they are from the gardening club? No, such a stunt cannot be pulled at this time of the school's day, and they seemed to be falling from the sky, opposite to where the club is situated).

This is a bit strange- I felt a light-weighting object lightly thumb against my head ( ? ? ? ) and dropped down beside my leg, I bent down slightly and took a look ( a Kodak DC? Is it from the Photography club?- but it is also located on the same side as the gardening club ).

I looked up the fading golden skies, searching for the one who could have dropped it, I doubt they even exist as no one is allowed on the rooftops ( so, it might be a type of prank or joke ), not finding who it was, I took the golden pink camera and put it in my bag.

I will search for its owner and give it back tomorrow.

I wandered within the school grounds in an entranced daze. I should probably be going home as there is already a lot to do ( I mustn't forget my ultimate goal), mom might (will ) also need help for tonight's dinner.

Yes, there was no time for slacking off when I'm this far.

I headed towards the school's exit in a bit of a hurry, passing by some soft gasps from the highschool boys that were seated on the school's benches, whispering, and blushing highschool boys and girls( hmm. . .?) looked away as I returned their gaze.

I took out a small, hand-sized book from my school bag, and half-heartedly started reading it as I walked the streets that would lead to my home, news of the death of a 19-year-old woman that had been decapitated and had her body parts stuffed within a bag in a closet at her own home by her boyfriend rang out at a nearby station time.

It was another predictable crime that could have been prevented and put a stop to had the police taken into account the man's shady tendencies, age (28), and behaviour, as well as the woman's warning and indirect cries for help (they never listened, or took the impending danger or death into account, they never help, they never save) .

I stopped midway at a transitional station so as to let a passing train go by, other people besides me were waiting, including the ones across the station.

In the end, this day was another tasteless busy day, progress was made for sure, but . . . will it ever be enough for such a goal? Everything is the same as always, the world was horribly cruel, blunt, and without change.

Yes, this world is not kind, it is unsafe, cruel, barbaric, deceptive, twisted, and rotten. I can't do anything about it but watch it rot as I do so too. I, too, might've been a useless, dreaming, drooling fool. . .

Does it make me a disguised existence that possesses a futile goal?