Black Lotus

26 - Game Over / Sensei

October 20, 2016 | Thursday

"So that's it. That's how it is for you, now? You just don't care?"

"Of course I care. Did I ever say I didn't?"

"No but your actions speak for you. I can tell, you stopped caring about us a long time ago. And now you want to just break it off like I never existed."

"It's not like that. I love you Oasis, but you abandoned me when I needed you the most. I almost died."

"How are you going to act like I wasn't with you almost every step of the way? I'm the one who you punched in the face when I broke the needle you were injecting into your arm. I made you go to rehab. I still loved you and I was never ashamed to call you my boyfriend even though you were strung out."

"Oasis," his voice cracked, "I apologize, but things are better off this way. I have Vanessa, and you have Rafael."

"You know I don't want Rafael. I don't love him, I love you! Aren't you tired of moving from girl to girl? Liz, Christina, me, now Vanessa? What makes you want her over me?"

"She was there with me through what had to be the worst period of my entire existence. I know you cared but Nessa was physically there with me and-"

Click!

Whatever this was, I had to admit that it was nice while it lasted. We were officially over. Later I'd mail him back his car keys, his stupid elephant keychain, and anything else. I had to sit down and try to see what the next chapter in my life would entail. And as soon as Medina and Ocean had learned that Max and I were through, they were more than ready to pitch ideas for starting my life anew.

"What if I went back to Ethereal? It's been a minute."

"You got your boss paralyzed and you haven't showed up in ages," Ocean started.

"Start a small business?"

"You're not too fond of human interactions," Medina responded.

"Fine then, what do you two suggest?"

"Paid assassin," Ocean joked in a serious voice.

"Anything realistic?"

"Start off from humble beginnings and do what I did."

"I'm not going to work at a Starbucks, Lake."

Medina's eyes soon lit up. "What if you decided to work from home writing books?"

"I'd become a starving artist. If I ever had the opportunity to publish a book, nobody would ever even consider buying it, or understanding it, for that matter."

"You'll never get anywhere with that attitude. You're only setting yourself up for failure."

"Alright, I guess I can at least try to come up with something somehow."

As soon as I got some alone time I sat down and took out a few pieces of paper and a pencil. But trying to write an actual storyline with characters and events. I was a poet, not a storyteller. My navigator's journal was the closest thing I've ever had to a book, but that was more so of a diary than anything else.