Chapter 1: This is Our Usual Morning

Slight shine that climbs through the wall slips into the windows, swimming deep in the curtain and deep into the room. The positive energy from the sun shines brightly to the soul that is sleeping peacefully there on the bed. The poor boy doesn’t like mornings just like his hatred toward cold water washing his body, for him cold water is like a shard of glass cut in his skin.

The boy forces himself to wake up, no, not only does the sun bother his slumber, the alarm clock that rings beside his bed too. They both cooperate to wake him up from his rest, such a tiresome wake up call he thought. He is having trouble turning off the alarm clock, why do you ask? He knows that he doesn’t have a very nice relationship with morning, thus he is aware that he needs more than just a normal alarm to wake him up. So, he uses a certain one that won’t stop ringing until he is fully awake. Now the boy needs to harvest the fruit of the decision that he planted by himself.

The boy woke and sat on his bed rubbing his eyes and stretching his body, trying to collect all the energy that he lost last night. Deep down inside his heart he felt heavy feelings, he felt bad of course, knowing morning such a nature that would never be able to change. But you see, he can’t deny nor change his mind and attitude toward the morning, there is in fact his nature too. There is no help in his chase because both the sun and alarm clock knock him hard this morning, so there is no way he can come back to sleep.

“All right – all right, I wake up now” the boy mumbling the words while struggling to stop torture in the morning.

The boy knows himself more than anyone, he knows that it is really hard to wake up, hating sunlight and morning is not the sole reason why, he also does not want to wake up. If he can make himself to lock inside the slumber to the eternity then he would. His heart's aching in pain knowing that he is still breathing, the pain in his heart's force his inner self to mourn his condition. He felt cold, his breath hitched as if something start bothering his mind right away once he able to obtain his own consciousness.

After it feels like a decade, he is successful to turn off his alarm, such a struggle he thought to himself. But there is no other way, he knows that well, if he does not force himself to wake then he just will welcome the slumber back until he can't breathe. The application inside his phone greets him with a ‘good morning’ text, it says…

Good morning Joshua

Yes, Joshua is his name.

>>>>>>>>>

I never thought this morning would be the same as any other morning, this suffocated feeling is always haunting me, I guess I’ll never get used to this. If there is any other way I would try it, but I guess even if some other way exists, I can’t really bring myself to do it, those feelings that bound me in one place will never let me let go of this suffering.

This dark room is still just like any other day, only total darkness, and limited light can go throughout the curtain, I can’t sleep nor rest if there is slight shine inside this room. The only thing that can be seen is LED light coming from the electronics that are placed here and there all across the room. I wonder when exactly this darkness becomes part of me. The light glimmer lightly through the curtain created silhouettes, the sun light playing vividly around the curtain

My feet touched the cold surfaces of the floor, this coldness always made me bitter.

Am I pessimistic? Am I already changed so much to be accustomed with this feeling? The world builds in such a way where this bitterness comes with happiness. So what happiness? I don’t know and I can’t understand such feelings, or I just can’t bring myself to feel such feelings. If I know this pain, don't I know what happiness is? This boring life will never change, In any case the jury is still out for this matter.

Is this way of thinking such a pessimistic way? But this is the real way to see the world. Live after all not as much as fairy tale, there is no such a thing. Happiness comes with sadness, it’s like a glimmering shadow through the crystal clear water, you can see the sadness waiting behind what you have right now. I’ve been here countless times to know the cycle of life enough. It’s getting old and getting boring, I’ll be jumping in euphoria if anything new happens, but at this point who are we kidding?

Happy ending is for the saint, the sinner will rot in hell.

I stand up and make my way to the switch, click it, and the light illuminates the entire room. My eyes slowly adjust with the change, it almost stings me, I try to close my eyes hard so it can adapt quickly, and I need a few tries until I can see the room clearly. When I can get a grip on myself I see a picture with a frame stand out on the shelf, the person in that picture smiles brightly, all of them are. How can you smile that brightly? I guess because nobody told you that you’re living in the theater and nobody told you that everything is a lie. I folded the frame to the surfaces, thinking that she must have come here last night before I slept and cleaned whatever she saw fit, and should have thrown away this picture a long time ago.

What date is this? What time is this? The digital clock on the shelf ticking and showing the answer of my question, I don’t have time to keep circling with something that irrelevant like this. I quickly make my way and step into the bathroom, turn the knob at the sink and the water flowing without stopping. I touch the cold water and quickly wash my face with it, the feeling of coldness cuts spread all over my body. I sneer and cringe to the sharp pain I felt in the instant the water hits my skin. This coldness is like thousand pieces of broken glasses cut to all over my body, the feeling of wound still fresh despite most of them scattered just an old wound, most of them already turn into scar even, but that feeling never leaves this body, so it seems.

While I tried to wash away the slumber from my face, I realized a sting feeling from my skin that I wasn’t aware of before. Red liquid trailing from my temple, I rubbed my finger to caress the source, this is a shallow cut, but the blood is awfully a lot for a shallow cut. Did I cut myself last night? When? I can’t bring myself to remembering it. This is not a rare thing that occurred, but this is annoying nonetheless. I can’t really feel it when it happens, but once I am aware of the thing that happened, all has been too late. It becomes an annoying trait at this rate, it becomes my nature to always be oblivious to anything, and let everything sink to the deepest sea?

I inspect the shadow that appears in the front of me inside the blurred glass. I lay my hand on the stagnant surface, moved it and the trail of clear reflection along the way. I can see the boy's face, trailed blood can be seen from here, the eyes are empty and it is staring right into me. Looking right into this shadow always reminds me of you no matter how long the time has passed, and I thought I should have gotten used to it by now, nevertheless you always can always make me feel nauseated.

People say; a nightmare will pass as you are human, every sleep you will have a different dream. But mine, why it never goes away, why it’s always here and walking with me like shadow. Do I have to keep rejecting you, or I have to keep accepting you?

I slowly get into the shower, undress myself slowly, standing below it and turn the knob down, and let water pour on my body, letting their coldness cut me to the entire core. With the water density, my bed hair gone in an instant, along with me trying to catch breath between the streaming of water. I can feel the water trailing all over my body, reach up every empty space, to the point I felt my body suffocating. The water touches the wound, the scar, and the past, but no matter what; they can’t ever be washed away. The scar beating and resonant just like all of this happened a second ago, just like those nightmares that always happen, still fresh in mind.

I let myself stand here, controlling my breath and enjoying the pain through all my body. I can’t really let and make this feeling go away, so exchanging the pain in this chest with shivering pain already becomes ritual every now and then. At least the troubled that reside in my heads slowly dissolve away, the more this pain in my skin getting stronger, then the quicker it can cover all this inside feeling.

I step out from the shower, wrap towel around my waist, starting to dry out my body and my damp hair slowly. I walk out from the bathroom and make my way slowly to my wardrobe while all the water from my hair dry slowly. The black wooden floor get wet by my every step, the water glittering light from lamp above, this type of floor is not mine to choose, she said it look good for me, and easy to clean she said. Whatever fits her whim I guess, if this is she wanted, if this is the direction she like to go, I won’t be the one who opposed it. But I need to be honest, it does look neat, and the surface not slippery either.

I slowly passed my bed, that thing placed right beside the window, there was some small balcony where I usually put some books and my clock, the way they are placed scattered, they are not neat, I want it that way. Sometimes those books can help me in the most sleepless night, if I’m lucky of course, any other night probably me staring into empty and dark space all over night till I get tired and sleep in the end. My PC is placed on the top of my study desk just across the bed and just beside the bathroom door, it is convenient for me. On that desk also all my heavy electronic devices are placed, the closer they are with one another, the easier for me to study, everything is reachable.

The book placed neatly inside the bookshelf, there not much book placed over there, but I like to keep all the book I interested in one place. The wall colored gray, there is nothing cling on there, only clean wall and window, I was the one picked the color, because it will somehow fits the floor. Grey after all is quite neutral and soft color, I do not like strong color anyways, hurting my eyes.

The balcony is my favorite spot, especially when it is raining. I can read as many books as I want, listen to rain and keep passing page by page without worry of time. I just want time to stop, however, time clearly would not stop for anyone that is how time works that is why it’s fair.

I dry myself, and start to take out my clothes one by one, throw them all on the bed. While doing so I inspected my wall again, and I thought to myself, am I boring? Or perhaps I just simply don't have any interest toward anything? I realized how clean my wall is, for 3 years living here, and this room has not changed from the very first time I occupied this room. This room is divided into two rooms, there is a wooden bar divided between his bed and another open room.

Where my flat TV is placed, it is not plugged to anything particular other than the old console. There were some wooden shelves clinging on the wall, and some old toys and figures placed there. Most of them are already outdated anyways, but why do I bother collecting them? All the game discs are placed neatly below the shelf, and lately I’m not really touching them at all. They are just old games, and nobody actually plays them except me. After all, I feel bad for them, to be stuck with someone like me. I do not like watching any show, the TV is in even bad fate, the purpose is only to display the gameplay, and that is it.

These wooden pillars that separated my room from the games room probably can be livelier if I put something, but do I need to trouble myself by doing that? I do not see any merit by doing so. But putting up some model kit might make the empty space look better than just leaving it that way. But I can’t pick those things all by myself, for a dull person like me that just won’t work. Should I call him and ask for his help instead?

I start to dress myself slowly, my clothing line isn’t that impressive after all, for someone like me who valued comfort more than looks, to have something fancy just make my skin crawl. In any case, it’s better to look decent even if you are not fashionable, the harsh reality is; most people will not look at your heart or whatever inside you, the way you dress for most people will become determination. Despite I can’t find a good correlation between dress flashy and attitude, in fact it sounds like the opposite happened. People thought it is very countable in any circumstances, it is hard to find an event without you being judged and controlled how to act. All this fashion clothing wasn’t picked up by myself, all is mother’s decision, she is the one that thinks this looks good on me.

She said "so, my son will look just like that star on TV”.

He never gets it, he will never be able to understand such attraction.

I put on the white shirt and proceeded to put black high neck jacket on, I took blue jeans, wore it and tucked my shirt inside. The black shoes should do it for today. I can hear wind from outside, the tree starts losing its leaf one by one, today too going to be cold. I need to prepare before I regret it later. The chilling wind is never friendly during this season, before everyone eyes, season changes like book pages, you read it for a while but you need to move to the next page like it or not, or you are going to be stuck in the past forever.

Grabbing my bag, and walking out slowly through this house's second floor alley way, I can smell fragrance beyond, I made my way through the stair , going down step by step. The sound accessory classing with another comes from the back of my bag, the sound echoing through the house, making noise and ripple around the room. He can see a woman busying herself at the kitchen, and that fragrance comes from the fresh flower and the food that is being cooked right now. She picks up new flowers every morning from the garden, this morning it's lily.

I can see that she does not pay any attention to anything except the food for now, that frail body can give up any time now, and I too lose every second at the same time. It’s been 3 years, nothing changed with her, and nothing will, just like any other year in the past, the only change is the pain that me and her struggle to keep in one place, to keep it subdue.

The sound from kitchen utensils that are being used can be heard steadily. The smell of food gradually getting thicker the closer I get. As much I want everything to change, we both know that this ship is just going one way and that it is into the deepest ocean of despair and hatred. But I have promised you after all, therefore I ask you from the deepest of my heart, to wait and be strong just a little bit longer.

>>>>>>>>>

“You already up?”

The voice ring from the kitchen and its come from the frail body that stands on the kitchen, the boy’s mother, she got all the features how parents should look like in their middle aged. Black long hair with some of white hair line here and there, surprisingly her face still looks younger than she supposed to be, just like her son. Perhaps this what people said with ‘it does run in the family’.

Joshua only nodded and proceeded to take a seat. To be frank, his relationship with his mother is already broken beyond repair; they are in fact, not on good terms. One wants to move on and ready to forget, always ready to bow her head and ask for forgiveness, but the other one doesn’t seem to have the same interest.

He doesn’t want to forgive his mother.

As cruel as he could be, he doesn’t want to.

“Today is campus day, right? What time are you going back home?”

She is actually concerned with Joshua each day and every night, but she tries to carefully approach him, doesn’t want to push a wrong button and let this boy have the wrong impression. Her tone was very soft and cheerful, all that only for his boy's sake, the only boy that she loved, her son that has been betrayed by her own self.

“I don’t know, until late perhaps” and the boy tried to contain everything inside, the anger, sadness, despair, for the sake of his mother.

“I see, be careful, okay?”

The boy only glanced at her and started eating his breakfast and tried not to bother her.

Like every lovely morning they both have every day, it's silent and cold no matter what, despite the hot and warm steam mist from the food. The boy is already deep in betrayal and the mother already deep in regret. The frail woman acknowledged and realized that it’s all her fault that drives her own son to scatter all the land mines around him so people can’t go inside. There is nobody who can't touch his heart, nobody can’t see his soul, and nobody knows his true self. And what more painful than a feeling of rejection to get into the place every mother wants to step in? Every mother's special place is their own son's heart, and your son rejected everybody including… you.