DESTINATION

PROLOGUE

"but I need to continue walking these roads

trying not to vision walking with you

because it's just me, walking all alone

while still carrying the memories of you"

100118

"How do I properly start this? I know you can't see me. Hmm. How? How can I tell a story that is no movie? Maybe it is possible to be one? Well, who am I to know. I think I'm going crazy."

Talking to a diary, I'm really losing my sanity. (JOURNAL, not a diary. Greg said.) Who gives a shit about what he said, he's a character. (You're also a character.) Shut up. Enough with that.

"My name is (chika chika) no. No no no no. I may be slim, but I'm not shady. Enough with that I said! Well, I'm L. Yes, just L. That's all you're going to get. Because that's what I always get. L. I'm twenty two years old, internally dying but physically alive and well in the very same room that I grew up in.

A small room among five other rooms in a house filled with my mom's relatives. It's like inception, but instead of dream within a dream within a dream, it is a room within a room within a room. Making them also my relatives, but except for my other cousins, most of the people here are nothing more but companions in my eyes. I really don't get along with most of my aunts, uncles, and some cousins. They hate how honest I am and serious with life. They wanted to understand me, but every time I try to explain they brush me off with words I already know and untrue.

As of now, it's just me, my older brother RR, and my sister, the oldest, Tif, left in this room that we call home.

Like my sister, I have a degree in secondary Mathematics education. I wasn't that close to my sister back then, due to seven years of age gap between us. Yet, I got the same scholarship and studied in the same university she went too. Maybe that's why we got closer by the time that I got my skinny ass to college.

But unlike her, I stopped teaching after two years. While I was in third year college, I got another scholarship that helped me graduate. But in that scholarship, I was required to teach for two years before I can do something else. It's kind of a give and take situation. The scholarship gives me allowance while studying, but after graduation I need to work for the same number of years that I was a scholar (which is two) to have no violations or whatsoever on the contract. It's like the movie Pay it Forward. They helped me, and I help them by helping others. I enjoyed the two years of teaching, but due to some circumstances during summer vacation, I decided to stop teaching.

I then convinced my brother RR, who is a barista at one of my favourite coffee shops, to help me start a so-called business. It's an old-school type of thing, wherein we take requests from our customers who wants to give something sweet for their loved ones. It's a greeting card kind of business. I write the letter and poem inside, and my brother does the artwork for the cover. My sister is the one in charge with the organization of the requests, emails, advertising, and payments of our siblings' business.

We named it "Illegal brothers and sister", after a weird nickname given by RR during those days where we spent hours playing Contra. Ever since we were kids, he's really into lettering and drawing characters from our favourite shows and games. He drew these two characters that we play as in Contra, with a caption of "Illegal Bros", and the rest is history.

It started small, like we get one customer a week. Most of them at first were from people that we know. Then due to good word of mouth, after a year we're now getting five requests a day. At first, it was a struggle to keep up with the requests, but thanks to my AI, Gin, we can finish the writing process thrice as fast than before. Gin has been part of our work for three months now, he's expensive, but he's really helpful to us. This is one of the most amazing inventions of modern society, an AI that is genius, but not too genius to go full Upgrade on everyone.

The revenue is great. We get a few tips here and there, enough to get us out of this room. But still, we decided to save it first, and buy our own place in the future. I do most of the heavy lifting for this business. I mean, I'm the only one who doesn't have a job. My sister still teach mathematics, and my brother is either working at nights, or getting drunk until the sun comes up. Ever since we started this business, I spent most of my time in the booth (my room within our room. Roomception.)

Nowadays, I only go out every afternoon. I go to coffee shops around ASEANA City to read books and sometimes write random poems. Sometimes, I just go around the streets of ASEANA with my headphones on, burn playlist playing, and a cigarette on my left hand.

Back then, I don't smoke too much. I even got to the point that I actually stopped. And I go out most of the time, even when I still work as a teacher. Yeah, they say that being a teacher is time consuming. But for someone like me who can organize and manage time, it was easy piece-y. Because back then, I had a reason to manage time and go out to various places. I think it's been three months since the last time that I saw her. I don't know how long, I mean, who's even counting? I broke up with the girl that I've been dating for almost five years. We spent three years under the mutual understanding stage, the messy stage as millenials would like to call it. "NO LABEL", "CHECK THE LABEL'. That's what my friends used to spit on my face. But eventually, after three years, she said yes to make it all official.

But she's gone, it ended last summer. Summer's gone. It was a mess. I'm a fucking mess. Every time that I write, I always get these flashes, memories of her, beautiful ones. Her smile, the way her dark, beautiful hair sways when it's windy. And of course, that sight of her. Sitting by the bay, her silhouette, right next to the sun as it kisses the ocean. But these memories make me bitter while writing. Most of the time, I bash the people that sends us requests after I finished working. "Forever is a lie. We're all going to die." "Dude, be careful." "You got a psycho bitch waiting to happen."

What a douche is me. These people spend their hard earned money to pay for a guy who backstabs them. Well, I'm sorry. I'm not mad at these peeps, I'm just a mess.

For a guy who speaks his mind, to the point that I don't care if you won't like what you'll hear, I'll say what I need to say, I'm pretty good in lying in these letters. I know they're not my feelings, but they are my words, my poetry, my art.

The problem with this kind of business is that, it helps me spend time and do what I love to do, but at the same time I get haunted by her ghost, which is a scary paradise. I don't believe in ghosts, but she's one.

But wait a minute, what kind of journal is this, a pity-party? Well, bye now. I got a ton of poems to do. Write to you later. The fuck. I really need to get a therapist. Anyway fuck it. How do normal people end their journal entry? I don't know. Maybe give our wifi password. Bye now.

SummerIsABitch."