1 My Pathetic Life

It has been almost a year since I graduate and I'm still jobless. I didn't even attend my graduation, as I still have an outstanding fees.

What can I say, I don't have money to pay for it.

All the money I have is used mainly for one thing. House rent. That is the most important thing in my life. At least, I won't be living on the street.

I've been living with a measly 600 dollars a month and more than half of it is for my rent and bills. And the source of money? It come from my sisters, which are way older than me and have been acting like my parents since their death when I was nine.

Other than that, food? I'm content with instant noodles for now. If I'm feeling fancy, then I would cook some rice and fry some eggs. Fresh steaming rice with eggs, adding a dollop of soy sauce and mayonnaise is a delicacy for me.

Sigh.

I really need to get a job.

But what can I do? I can't apply anywhere without my degree certificate, which I can't obtain until I pay the outstanding amount. Plus, graduating with second honour in Creative Writing can't really get me a place in somewhere decent after all.

Arghhh... my life suck.

Why did I take writing again?

Even since I was a little boy, I have dreamt to become a singer, or an actor, or perhaps an announcer. It wasn't until I was in high school, when the tv starts to play House M.D. that I start to have dream on becoming a doctor, a neurosurgeon specifically.

But... life doesn't always give what you want. Apparently, I don't have the face to become an actor, nor did I have the voice to be a singer, and certainly I don't have the grace to become an announcer.

Oh yeah... I got a D on my Biology.

So, there goes my dream.

Then, why did I take up writing again?

Oh yeah, now I remember. Back in high school, one of my teacher would always praised me for my composition. She always told me I have a knack on writing. She even submit my mid term paper to be published in the school magazine. It was one of my proudest moment in my life.

That is one of the reason on why I took up writing. Plus, I have this kind of thinking when I first start. If I can't become what I want in reality, perhaps I can become one in my writing. It's like... some sort of compensation for not being able to achieve my childhood dreams.

But now, years later, after I graduate, I don't really feel the urge to write anything. I don't know why. I have a lot of ideas, running around in my mind. But, the moment I put those on paper, it disappear.

Sometimes... I feel useless. Most of my high school friends seems to be enjoying their life. They have a job, some have gotten married, and they even have a child. Their life seems... happy. I can't say it's perfect because I know, no one is perfect, but...I know, they are happy. Living each day with a purpose will surely make you willing to survive another day.

As for me... It's hard enough to survive on a daily basis. As for me, I don't even have money to eat because I don't have a job and I don't have a job because I don't have money to pay for my outstanding fees. Argh...the loop just go on and on.

Lately, I even feel ashamed to go out with my best friends, which by the way, have a great career in their life. One even manage to bought himself a house after three years of working. How's that for a commitment?

Being depressed has become my daily routine. All I can do to escape it is watching countless hours of video on YouTube or playing games on my phone or... reading some novels. More than often, suicidal thoughts would cross my mind. I would be thinking if I should just die if I really have no purpose in life.

There are times that I would almost slash my wrist, but I can't do it, because I want to live. Once, I even search on how to slash one's wrist successfully. It turns out, the way they slash their wrist vertically and dip it in the tub of water, as they shown in tv, is considered as an act of a coward by those psychologists. They say, people who do that are afraid of pain and you won't even really die. Apparently, the 'correct way' is to slash horizontally, which, they say, guarantees an instant death.

In my clouded mind, I almost do it. I even graze the outer skin of my wrist with a pen knife, horizontally, before I stop, thinking that... sigh.

Nobody knows my suffering. Nobody seems to care. Feeling like a burden, to my sisters, I would some time wish... wish for the impossible.

I want to live. But I don't know how.

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"He seems to be the right candidate, sir."

"He is, isn't he?"

"So, what do you want me to do, sir?"

"LS03, wait for him. But, if he takes too long to get here... bring him in."

"Bring him in? Sir, you mean..."

"Yes."

"But, sir..."

"We have no other choice. The stars and planets alignment only happen once in a blue moon. If we miss it, we might have to wait for years. By that time, we have no idea how many survivors are there. I rather sacrifice one man, than let the rest suffer."

"I understand, sir."

"He is in his weakest spot now. You should know what to do, LS03."

"Yes, sir. I'll do my best."

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"Lets just sleep. Tomorrow will be better. Maybe."

This is the last thing in my mind before I fall asleep. I never know that I will be facing a different tomorrow.

A much different tomorrow.