LUNA (Under Construction; editing)

1.

DISCLAIMER: This is NOT a wolf story

Chapter 1.

When I was a little boy, I was always asked what I wanted to be when I grew up. I'd tell them 'happy'... I'm not at that point yet.

Besides the obvious questions an adult would ask at that time, I was always told to be prepared. By then, I was not exactly sure of what to prepare for. Why was that word always thrown in my face? Prepare, they'd say. It isn't gonna be easy.

I'd always lay in bed on late hot nights, where there was no breeze to cool you down and the stars in the night sky were the only light to be brightening the darkness surrounding you. The moon was never to be found, always seemed to be missing. Still sleepless I'd lay on my back, over thinking to myself with the smell of cigarettes lingering onto my clothes. My dad always did love to smoke, I guess that's one thing I picked up from him.

I was just a kid around that time. I didn't care. I gave no absolute interest in any type of thing. And I must admit that those were probably the best moments of my entire life, simply to the given fact that I just didn't give a shit. I felt so free only to realize I was trapped.

Though it was such short amount of time, I was at my happiest-- or at least that's what I thought happiness was at that time. I wish I was once told to care for myself and to care for others or even the smallest little things, because once I started to, I was almost sure I didn't know how.

And so now I lay in bed, ceiling above my head. No stars, still no moon; it wasn't until recent that I had realized what it was I needed preparing for. It was nothing much more than the simple obvious thing most had but didn't really seem to appreciate. The one thing people didn't care much about like I once upon a time didn't either. What they had but didn't know how to use.

And that stressed word prepare was for life. It wasn't just the nature of living, like how the flowers grew, the kids played, or the sound of an infant crying-- not exactly that, but preparing for the loss of it. Not death in particular. But to prepare yourself for the regret of never getting the chance to appreciate it, or to lay awake in bed and just for once be satisfied with yourself and be at ease. The should'ves' and the I wish that never became realities.

The one night I laid myself in bed again, and closed my eyes because there was no stars, not anything to look up to... that was the day I learned. When I finally knew what it meant, what it was all for. I should've figured it out long ago but when I did, I was afraid it might've been too late.

I wasn't careful, I didn't care. And I paid my own price. I was alive, breathing, but so numb. I was a living dead boy. And till this day, the hatred against my own self was well deserved, I still did not care.

----

As I took a step with each of my foot, the sound echoed through out the entire hallway of the main lobby. I took a quick glance down at the shoes that I was wearing, in reality these shoes don't make such lousy noise. Though I liked the sound they made in a quiet place as I walked. It made it seem as if a storm was approaching, and usually it always was.

I scratched the back of my neck lazily already knowing the exact words Robinson was going to say. That grumpy old man will never get enough, there will never be a day where this man happily gets off my back. Sixty-five and still roaming around campus trying his best to get everyone into some serious deep shit.

Maybe sixty-five is a little exaggerated age, but the guy probably has wrinkles in places wrinkles should never be in. And that grey hair growing out of his ears and down his noise isn't quite helping his case on looking his real age either.