Flows she unfettered
From the deep mountains of green
Called Kamogawa
___
It's 11:00 AM in the morning. This is roughly the time I have been waking up at for the past 4 months and a half, unable to sleep early enough to be awake for the first two classes of the day. And they are usually the ones that are the hardest. On top of that, I sometimes just stay stuck to the bed for two more hours, just daydreaming, and that results in me missing more classes.
This is not how things used to be, I used to be better. I believe things changed after my parents divorced, and I found the way of escapism in studying.
It started as just one night of innocent venturing into the documentation of the old
In the beginning, I was usually just fiddling with technical documentations, or the depths of the
How I wished I could have just stopped there. That was the tipping point. I was soon binge-watching through Anime, Sitcoms, and TV series' like sliding on a frozen lake. And if I was not watching anything, I was either reading through 4chan green threads, or playing Genshin Impact, trying to farm more
Fortunately, I was also out of the gacha trap as soon as I was caught in it, and I left my Genshin days behind. But then, for better or worse, I got into reading eastern fantasy long text novels, and that was when I lost myself entirely.
Waking up, sleeping, walking, sitting in dorm, or in class, all I did was read, read, and read.
And then I got bored. So I couldn't read any more. And so, playing video games was all I did. Again, back to them, the only companions I've had throughout life. The only things that have comforted me. I tried to leave them behind, to focus on university, to study computer science but fortunately, or unfortunately, I'm led back to them.
___
11:47.
It took me 47 minutes after waking up to get out of the bed today, I guess we can call that improvement.
Walking away from the futon set against the inner wall of my
It's a wet morning, there must have been some dripping in the night. As I look at the world from my small window, I can't help but shiver due to the parting chill breeze of slowly disappearing winter, and the warmth brought on by the arrival of spring and cherry blossoms.
It's the end of March. Winters have passed, and the March that came in like a lion is leaving like a lion, too. Slow, unnerved. And with it goes another semester of my university life that I wasted.
As I look at the tiny pink petals floating and falling down a few centimetres per second, I think of all there is left for me. Honestly, I do not believe there is anything really left. My parents split up last year, not that they were any good when they were married. But then, at least I could ignore all that, and escape to video games. Now I can not escape that. It is now a fact proven physically, and there is no ignoring that.
Well, no point in spiralling into things that do not matter.
I slowly get up from the window and walk to the bathroom in a lazy gait. There is no hurry, I have nowhere to be.
Yes, I feel more awake when I splash my face with 13C cold water. I can only stare at the mirror blankly, that face covered in wet black hair looking back at me. If one has to define that face in one word, it would be average. There is nothing on that face that stands out, no special feature that makes it appealing; or no scar, birthmark, or disfigurement that will make it appear unsightly. A perfectly average face, one that would easily disappear and be forgotten in the smallest of crowds.
I can't help but wonder if there is a reason why I stare at myself so much. Maybe I am seeking an answer, hidden away in the depths of my soul. Well, at least that's what they do in the movies, romanticising staring at yourself. I don't really believe I have anything of the sort in my mind. I think I just want to look at a blank sheet made of flesh and exist in a blank state of mind, perturbed with no thought.
I guess that's a pretty good line. Maybe. Oh well, it doesn't matter.
Once I dry my face, I walk back to the
It's time to make breakfast. Well, to me more accurate —with how late I woke up, and then the time I took to get out of the bed, and then the time I spent just sitting around and then washing up, it's already 1 pm— so it's more of a brunch. I don't even have much of an appetite at this point, even eating has started to feel like a chore, but I guess I am not so far gone to be suicidal yet, so I cook two meals a day to survive. And because I have to work a part-time job, I need some nutrition. It's a whole cycle of eat to live, work to eat, and eat to work at this point.
As I look at the last night's dishes sitting in the sink, I feel a sense of nausea, that I do not want to do this. I feel like vomiting the little water I have ingested, but it doesn't even rise up to my stomach, absorbed into the blood stream already. Well, it cannot be helped, I shall do as I must.
I do not particularly dislike cooking, in fact, I am quite fond of being in the present with the process, not surrounded by my thoughts for a moment, focused on something that requires my attention. Unfortunately, there is no such joy with washing dishes, a job so passive; thus inevitably I am still left alone with my thoughts. It's not so bad, though. I can always try distracting myself by thinking of some popular manga's current plot point, or wondering what stage the development of GTA VI must be at. Sometimes, it works, most other times, it doesn't.
Ahh, I'm done with the dishes. I guess the only silver lining with dishes is that, with a job so boring, it happens fast when you are lost in your own head, and don't realise when the time passed.
We are making a simple, easy, and filling breakfast today. Or brunch. Bland
I throw a cup of rice in the cooker, and pour water on top of it. Once I feel the water is enough, I close the lid and turn it on.
Now, as I wait for the rice to cook, I got to the washroom area, and take out the clothes I had left to dry in the machine. They are moist, but they are only few. I spread them close to the window from where the sun peeks, and they shall now be dried completely. And in the meantime, rice is cooked.
I guess one advantage of doing everything slow like a snail is that you don't have to wait long for something. I can't help but imagine myself a snail as I take out the rice in a long bowl, and then flip them on a plate to have a thick, inverted boat shape. Time for the eggs.
Four eggs are all I need. I take the bowl I shaped the rice in, and break in the eggs. Then, to simply mix them until somewhat homogeneous, and we pour them in a pan at low heat.
Wow, am I giving cooking instructions in a video? Way to use them plural pronouns.
Anyway, I simply just stir the eggs and pull them apart from the sides with chopsticks until most of it is cooked in small strips and flowing. Then we let it sit for a moment, and slowly turn it half onto itself, and then with a little shake of the pan, it's now fully covered in itself. Now, the most important part, slowly and carefully sliding it off on to the mountain of rice, and cutting the eggs from the top.
It's done.
I can't help but smile a bit at the state of the omurice. I guess even I can be a bit competent at times.
I carry the plate to my work table, sitting just left of the only window in my room, then I pull back the chair and sit down. Time to eat, I guess.
The meal is as bland as I would expect, seasoned only with salt, but it is alright. That is all I need, and that is all I can afford.
___
It's already 2:30 in the noon once I am done with lunch; or brunch, depending on who you ask.
Time to get to work, then.
Throwing the dishes into the sink, I fill them with water, and leave them soaking. They shall only be washed at the time of dinner now.
It has been a few months since I started this job. The cause is not really that important, but after my parents' divorce, I was left to fend for myself. Fortunately, my father was still willing to pay for my schooling, otherwise I would have no choice but to drop out, and that would not be pretty, now, would it?
I do not really know why he didn't stop paying for my school, though. It isn't really that many steps behind stopping any survival allowance, that I was getting back then. Maybe he knew, that I wouldn't be existing if I had to drop out from university too, or maybe he thought being such a wonderful father my whole childhood, he could do a little bit extra one last time too; or maybe he just had enough disposable income that he could throw away at me and count it as charity. God only knows.
While lost in these thoughts, I had already changed into my outside clothes. Nothing serious, just track pants, a full sleeved shirt, and a windbreaker, since the last stretch of the month of March still had its windy chill.
I didn't make much in terms of money from my job, but it was enough to make ends meet. And, if it came to be, save a little at the end of the month to use in some situation of need, like getting run over and paying for my hospital bills? Honestly, I would prefer to just die in that case though, the world would be losing nothing. But, then again, as small of an existence I am, it doesn't matter whether I live or die, nothing will change. And, if you were to ask me, I would love for it to stay that way. My existence shouldn't be mattered.
Can't be helped, can it?
I say to no one but the empty 4 1/2 tatami room behind me.
Time to work, it is now.