Yesterday was something else—new opportunities, a glimpse of what it's like in her shoes. It's all led me to a final conclusion. Too soon? Maybe. But I've reached the point where I don't believe people can truly change. No matter how it starts or how it ends, it all feels like a constant reminder of the hell my life has been and always will be.
The only difference in this hellish experience is the endless loop—slightly altered every now and then. The changes, you ask? They mainly come down to the people and certain interactions. But the similarities? They're always the same. Everything aligns in a way that leaves me, without fail, as the one abandoned in the wretched dust.
It's been like that for too long. Now I must, no, I will override this false destiny.
"Come on wake up sleepyhead" Evelyn says annoyingly after opening my door. "Oversleeping won't help you do anything you know that right?"
"It'll help me stay away from annoying people like you for longer" I say sarcastically while slightly meaning it with an half awake voice.
Evelyn can get irritating maybe more than others. Due to the luck of the draw, I must stay with her longer than others. As I turn to face her she speaks up with an half angry half surprised expression.
"Whatever" She says with a straight face. "I guess you'll just miss your first period."
"First period?" I repeat groggily, rubbing my eyes as the words hang in the air. "That's a problem for future me."
Evelyn lets out a dramatic sigh, crossing her arms as she leans against the doorframe. "You're hopeless, Shin. Seriously, what's the point of being smart if you're going to waste it by sleeping through class?"
I stretch lazily, my joints popping in protest. "Smart enough to know most lectures are just glorified readings of the textbook."
"That's just an excuse for being lazy," she snaps, rolling her eyes. "Not everyone has the luxury to slack off and still pull decent grades."
Her tone has a sharper edge to it than usual, one that makes me pause for a moment. Evelyn rarely talks about her struggles, but the underlying bitterness slips out every now and then.
I sit up, running a hand through my messy hair. "You're unusually chatty this morning. What's gotten into you? Let me guess, another all-nighter working on your stupid art project?"
Her face twitches, and I can tell I hit a nerve. "It's not stupid, Shin," she retorts. "And for your information, yes, I was up all night. Some of us actually put effort into things."
There it is again—the subtle tension that always seems to linger between us. I don't know if it's the way I brush things off or the fact that she takes everything so seriously, but we're always tiptoeing on the edge of an argument.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed and grab my phone from the nightstand, scrolling through notifications. "Relax, Evelyn. I'll make it to class—eventually."
"Eventually isn't good enough," she says sharply, her arms still crossed. "You think this world's going to wait for you to decide when you're ready? It won't.
Her words hit deeper than I care to admit, but I refuse to let it show. Instead, I flash her a tired grin. "Thanks for the morning pep talk, Mom."
She groans in frustration, throwing her hands in the air. "Why do I even bother with you? If you want to self-destruct, go ahead, but don't drag me down with you."
I watch as she storms off, muttering under her breath. The door slams shut behind her, leaving the room heavy with silence.
For a moment, I just sit there, staring at the closed door. She doesn't get it—no one does. They see me as some arrogant know-it-all, too lazy to care. But the truth is, caring is exhausting. When you've spent your whole life watching things crumble, it's hard to find the energy to keep doing things.
Still, her words echo in my mind. Maybe she's right. Maybe I've been too comfortable in my spiral, too resigned to this so-called "false destiny" I keep cursing.
With a reluctant sigh, I get up and start getting ready. As much as I hate to admit it, Evelyn's nagging usually does the trick.
It's been a week since we've became roommates I'm used to her but I doubt she's remotely used to my presence.
Our lives couldn't be more different, and yet here we are, stuck together under the same roof by some cruel twist of fate. Evelyn, the overachiever with a penchant for art and perfection, and me, the guy who can't even be bothered to pretend to care half the time.
I glance at the clock on my phone—7:45 a.m. First period starts in fifteen minutes. Plenty of time. Or maybe not.
Evelyn's voice echoes faintly from the kitchen as I pull on a wrinkled shirt and jeans. She's probably preparing one of her ridiculous breakfast smoothies. I've noticed her obsession with routines, as if having structure will shield her from whatever chaos life decides to throw her way. It's almost admirable. Almost.
As I shuffle into the kitchen, Evelyn is standing by the counter, her dark hair tied back in a ponytail, her face set in that familiar look of disapproval. "You're actually up," she says, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "I was about to call the morgue.
I grab an apple from the fruit bowl and take a bite. "Surprise. Still alive and kicking."
She glares at me, but there's a hint of something else—concern, maybe? I can't tell. Evelyn's good at masking her emotions, except for when she's pissed off. That's when everything comes spilling out, sharp and unfiltered.
"You know," she starts, her voice softer now, "you might hate this arrangement as much as I do, but it wouldn't kill you to try. Just… try. For once."
Her words catch me off guard, but I quickly shrug it off. "Try what? Pretending everything's fine? Passing as a model citizen?"
"No," she says, her eyes narrowing. "Try being honest. With yourself. With me. With anyone, really."
I chew on the apple thoughtfully, her words sinking in deeper than I'd like. Honesty. Not exactly my strong suit, especially when it comes to the mess in my head. But there's something about the way she says it, the way she looks at me, that makes me feel like maybe—just maybe—it's worth considering.
"I'll think about it," I mumble, tossing the apple core into the trash.
Evelyn arches an eyebrow. "You? Think? Now there's a headline."
"Don't push it," I mutter, grabbing my bag.
"Don't worry," she says, a faint smirk playing on her lips. "I wouldn't dream of it."
As I step out the door and into the crisp morning air, I can't shake the feeling that Evelyn's words will haunt me for the rest of the day. Honest, huh? If only it were that simple.
The walk to campus is uneventful, which is fine by me. A week at this new college, and I've already decided people-watching is more than enough social interaction. Still, there's one person I can't seem to avoid, no matter how hard I try.
Elie.
She's like an unwanted shadow, popping up in all four of my classes and always managing to sit close enough to make her presence impossible to ignore. I don't know if it's coincidence or some twisted cosmic joke, but I can't go a day without seeing her.
As I approach the lecture hall for my first class, I spot her immediately. She's in the second row, her bright orange hair tied in a loose braid, her head buried in a notebook. Great.
I consider sitting at the back, far away from her, but as I step into the room, she looks up and waves. It's not an enthusiastic wave—more like a casual flick of the wrist—but it's enough to draw attention from a few nearby students.
I nod in acknowledgment, hoping that's the end of it, but she motions toward the empty seat beside her. I hesitate, debating whether to make up an excuse or just go along with it. Before I can decide, she tilts her head and smirks, as if daring me to refuse.
Reluctantly, I make my way over and drop into the seat.
"Morning, Shin," she says, her voice light and teasing. "Overslept again?"
"How'd you guess?" I reply, pulling out my notebook.
"Call it intuition," she says with a shrug. "Or maybe it's the fact that you look like you just rolled out of bed."
"Fair enough," I mutter, flipping through the pages absentmindedly.
Elie has this strange energy about her. She's not overly chatty or clingy, but there's something disarming about her confidence. It's as if she knows she's going to get under my skin and enjoys every second of it.
"So," she says, leaning slightly closer, "how are you liking the school so far?"
"It's fine," I answer curtly, hoping she'll drop the conversation.
"Fine?" she repeats, raising an eyebrow. "That's it? No glowing reviews or scathing criticisms?"
"Should there be?"
She laughs softly, the sound somehow both genuine and irritating. "Most people have more to say about a place they're stuck in for the next few years."
"Guess I'm not most people," I reply, scribbling nonsense in the margins of my notebook to avoid her gaze.
"Clearly," she says with a grin. "You're the mysterious loner type, huh? Bet you've got a whole tragic backstory to go with it."
I glance at her, startled by how close she's gotten to the truth. "You watch too many movies," I say flatly.
"Maybe," she admits, sitting back in her chair. "But you can't blame me for being curious. You're the new guy, after all."
"Doesn't mean I'm interesting," I counter.
Elie doesn't reply immediately, but the way she studies me makes it clear she's not convinced. "We'll see," she says finally, her tone laced with amusement.
Before I can respond, the professor walks in and starts the lecture.
Throughout the class, I can feel Elie's presence beside me, her occasional glances a constant reminder that she's not going to let me fade into the background.
By the time the lecture ends, I'm already dreading the next class. Of course, she'll be there, probably sitting in the same spot, waiting to chip away at whatever walls I've built.
As I pack up my things, Elie stands and slings her bag over her shoulder. "See you in the next class, Shin," she says with a knowing smile before disappearing into the crowd.
Great. Only three more classes to survive today.
This semester is shaping up to be way more exhausting than I anticipated.
The second class isn't much better. By the time I walk into the room, Elie's already there, sitting in what's becoming her signature spot: second row, smack in the middle. She doesn't wave this time, but she does give me a quick glance, her smirk firmly in place.
I deliberately choose a seat farther back, hoping to avoid another conversation. Maybe if I keep my distance, she'll get the hint and back off.
As the professor drones on about some introductory nonsense, I find my mind wandering. It's been a week, and I still feel like I'm in some limbo between starting over and sinking back into the same patterns. Evelyn's words from this morning echo in my mind: "Try being honest."
Honest about what? That I'm here because I had nowhere else to go? That I don't care about making friends or fitting in? That I'm already counting the days until I can leave?