I never realized just how insignificant my existence was, how small a part I actually played in this world of wandering billions. There existed a crevice, a meager gap in the ecosystem of society. That, there, was my humble abode. I was the smallest, most indistinct being on earth and I never realized this.
Not until I started using my words. Not until I actually had something to say.
The click-clatter of keys, the icy chill of the air conditioning, the pure white glow from my monitor contrasting the darkness of night. There I was, wallowing in my obscurity, hoping beyond hope someone would come and take even the slightest peek at my crevice.
One hour. An hour of clicking, an hour of typing, an hour of posting. Posts after posts after posts, websites tabbed in the dozen. Any forum, any discussion board, anywhere, anyplace, I did what I could.
One hour of wasted effort.
I was so caught up in the weight of urgency, so frantic over the wick of burning time, never once did I stop to wonder how these posts would be viewed in the eyes of another.
And alas, I paid the price for it.
A rambling hater they called me. A troll with too much free time. It's either one or the other. Déjà vu came in written form on a trip back to previous posts on other websites. People are relentless with their assumptions. I would know. I tried speaking the contrary, attempting to validate my claims.
April fools was three months ago, dude.
Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. Like how far up is your head up your ass to think someone would write all these warnings for fun? Seriously.
Despite it all, they held firm to their assumptions of me and went on with their lives. Overlooked and scorned, eventually, I too grew tired when everything I did amounted to irrelevancy.
They peeked the crevice and saw me. Then they scoffed and walked away. I was tired of it, I really was.
In hindsight, I should have seen this coming from a mile away.
My desk was no stranger to abuse, nor was my fist. But I don't ever recall bashing them together so hard that everything atop said desk toppled over.
Well, at least I toppled a record.
Among the items strewn and slanted, laid a sloping headgear, still as pristine as ever, whirring a silent mechanical melody, panel lights a steady pulsating green. Hadn't deactivated it since I left that world. Found that I couldn't, or maybe shouldn't... not an hour ago, not even now.
I remembered every night, the last thing in sight before slumber took over would be my headgear perched perfectly atop the shelf, just waiting, dreaming of the day I'd finally use it. Now that moment has come and gone and I can barely even stand looking at it for just a second before a completely nauseating feeling would stir my insides to a pitfall of jelly.
Where there was once excitement, now existed worry. Where there was once enthusiasm, now existed dread.
Where there was once a boy who knew nothing at all, now there was a boy who knew too much, way too much. And if it wasn't for his arrogance, he would have already admitted that he was scared, very scared.
Scared of failing, scared of trying, and most of all, scared that when the destined moment inevitably arrives, that he would forever blame himself for it.
That boy sure has got himself into such an unenviable predicament, I'm sure glad I ain't him.
Yeah, I so fucking wish.
I exhaled a sigh. I find myself doing a lot of that this past hour. Practically collapsing on my bed did little subsiding the trepidation growing with every wasted second. I don't even wanna see the world anymore. I just want to stay here, my face buried in white satin sheets and not think about anything anymore.
But even that small moment of placidity was withheld from me.
A faint click of a door handle followed by the squeaking of hinges. Then a small voice sounded through the ambiance of misery.
"Um... Sora?"
I didn't want to get up, so I replied with a muffle. "Yeah?"
"Dinner's... ready."
Of course, it is. But how the hell can I eat at a time like this?
"Should... should I tell mom you're not hungry?"
Unsure, hesitant, nervous, and tittering on a stutter. I could almost sense the timidness wafting towards me. Even more when I finally turned an eye towards him.
For being only four years my junior, Minatsu sure looked a lot younger than what you'd initially perceived. His constant demeanor doesn't help his case. Every part of his body was closer than it should be like he was constantly hugging himself; A downcast gaze, rarely meeting yours. I didn't know what it was about the floor that's so compelling, but if I ever do find out, I'll let you know.
The most prominent features he possessed should be his bright blonde hair and deep blue eyes. Whatever it is about that combination, it seems many people can't seem to resist it, resulting in a lot of pinched bruised cheeks.
Even then, he was in his usual stance, visibly unsure of himself or what he just waltz into. I mean to his credit, I'd be mildly cautious too seeing a physical imprint on my brother's desk, only to find him sulking face first on his bed. Doesn't take a genius to put two and two together.
Fatigued and dispirited as I was, I still decided to bless him with an answer.
"Just tell her I'll be down shortly."
Minatsu nodded his head, looking rather relieved that whatever happened to me beforehand didn't result in me yelling at him to buzz off.
"Were... were you playing just now?" He asked, spotting the headgear on standby with peaked interest.
I followed his spark of enthusiasm. "Yes..."
"Are you going to play again?"
Blinking. Pausing. Hesitating. I spoke.
"N-no... I don't think I will."
"Oh, I see." He sounded rather disappointed.
Usually, by now, he would have walked away. Lingering around for longer than a minute was an unprecedented event in our lives, but it seems even the status-quo longed to be crumbled in this day of unprecedented events.
"Sora?"
"Yeah?"
He mustered a breath. "After dinner... do you mind coming to my room for a moment?"
Ew, gay Minatsu, gay.
Like hell I'd actually say that. In all seriousness though, our spectrum of interaction only ranged from "Breakfast's ready" to "Dinner's ready". Any others besides that were an absolute rarity.
"Huh? What for?"
"I have a surprise to show you... if you don't mind... that is."
Immediately a suspicion came rousing, and I made sure to him it was apparent, "Did she tell you to do something?"
That sent him to a fluster, eyes visibly flinching to meet mine. "N-no... um, Mom has nothing to do with it, I promise. I... I just want to show you something nice."
"Really? Cause she tends to have a lot to do with things she has nothing to do with."
"I'm being honest this time, I swear."
Minatsu's the worst liar. Live with him long enough and it's as if his thoughts and intents were inscribed permanently in his eyes and his mannerisms. No dishonesty was happening here. None this time, at least.
I let the silent fester, before answering again.
"I'll think about it."
Lax shoulders, raised head, glowing eyes. Yup, just like an open book.
"Okay," Minatsu said, reaching for the door handle, "I'll go tell mom you'll be down soon."
The clack of a closed door was my cue to resume doing my best ostrich impersonation. Though even that too wasn't exactly authentic. Ostriches didn't think. Ostriches didn't worry. I did. Therefore, I wasn't an ostrich, no matter how much I wanted to be one right then.
There was an indent of frustration that remained on the bed when I finally got up. Look close enough, you could just barely discern the eyes, a gouge where a nose had pressed in.
It was pathetic looking.
If it had been someone else, if it hadn't been my burden to bear, just how well would they fare? I doubt they'd go about it as badly as I have. Probably would have succeeded in preventing a notable amount of unjustified anguishes by now rather than idling, crestfallen, contemplating futilely on "what ifs" that'll never resolve anything.
Yeah, if only it was someone else, if only I could pass these reins onto someone else... maybe someone well-known, whom many held in high regard. Someone reveling in the limelight, someone influential... someone... someone...
That's an idea. A semblance, a small portion of one, but an idea nonetheless. The idea was brewing and it's not stopping. It took hold of me and I found myself once again, plopped in a seat, basking in the glow of my monitor.
One more website. One last place to check.
This idea hinged on a single factor being present. A single thread staving off its collapse among the rubble. She better be live-streaming or I swear to God, I'm gonna throw my brand new headset at the wall. Misfortune had pelted me long enough, Lady Luck's merciless scorn had to dwindle at some point, and it had.
She was streaming.
Something swelled inside me then, a hefty enough swell to compress the infestation that plagued me. The apprehension, the anxiety, it didn't feel as imposing as it did before.
Was it courage, confidence?
Maybe stupidity?
Whatever the swelling was, it played a significant role suppressing the hesitance to put the headgear back on. Still, I managed, and I laid back on the bed, the illuminated ceiling solely in sight.
I let the headgear's foamy interior envelop me. It was soft, cozy, caressing the slightest fidget made, like the stroke of a gentle loving hand, imploring you to stay, to indulge in its comfort, to embrace the many things it had to offer.
Such a design that hides well a sinister truth.
A truth that I knew. A truth I was gonna show.
The swell erupted, surfacing through the depths of indecision, it sounded aloud.