Three more demon hunters to go.
We decided that the bookstore called Borders was our favorite pastime. There were at least hundreds of books to read. From really sophisticated books with scary titles like "Basic Economics," by Thomas Sowell, or Dirkheim's "On Morality and Society." to manga. I, of course, went for the manga.
If everyone had the same goal to win, then it must not be the goal that separates the winners from the losers. There's a saying that goes 'we do not rise to the level of our expectations, we fall to the level of our training. Your purpose wasn't to set a big goal, it's the pursuit that follows.
I read in one of the panels of one of my manga.
Whoa.
To be honest, I wasn't sure what that meant, but it sounded deep.
"Hey."
I nudged Felicity with my knee, who has been peacefully sleeping using my lap as a pillow.
"Wha-"
Drool spilled down her chin.
"Look at what this old man's saying in the manga. What does he mean by this?"
Felicity gazed over with her sleepy eyes.
"Ifunno, mehybe yew shud fink fohr yohrsellf."
Felicity plopped her head back down to sleep.
Felicity had been sleeping a lot more since Jane left—more, as in twenty hours a day.
Ah, it's a bit lonely to have nobody to talk to, but I've caught up on a lot of books since then.
I didn't realize life was so boring waiting for something to happen since I've been doing that my entire life. What did I even do before that made the time go by so easily? I mean, is this what life is about? Just a waiting game. Waiting's the worst.
Saeras hasn't visited since Jane left. She must've had other things to do. She was just dropping off the assignment, that's why she came. Any other reason... wouldn't have been warranted.
Sigh.
I played with Felicity's head, bobbling it back and forth as she whined.
"Waaaaaaaa~"
The antlers on her cranium was growing back. They were probably large enough for me to grip them.
"AaaaaaAaAAawaaaaaaaaawawawa~"
I did it a few more times before she launched a fist at my chest.
"LET ME FUCKING SLEEP!"
Felicity instantly plopped her head between the crevice of my leg and torso, returning to her soft and steady breathing, as if she had not woken up to launch a punch at full power at me.
I'm bored and I'm tired of reading.
"Huh? What's this?"
The Great Gatsby.
I must've accidentally picked this book out. The book was brief, about 180 pages. I first picked up the book in primary school as a freshman.
I didn't want to sit through the 180 pages, but I do remember how the story went. I returned to it every year, with a better understanding.
I used to sympathize with Gatsby, and that the world pitted against him. But... I don't think so anymore. Instead, I came to understand that everything Gatsby did was for his self-interest. He didn't see Daisy for who she was, or anybody for that matter. All he saw was his dream. An obsession to return to the past and rewrite it, a pointless and impossible endeavor.
