I've been missing you, you know?

Every single day feels like a drag. Why did you leave?

I wish you were here with us again.

Lacto-vegetarian. I didn't realize but I'm counted as a lacto-vegetarian. Isn't that amazing? No? Oh, I-I'll just go now. Goodbye.

"I got caught up again in the web. The web is a vast interconnected sphere of information." My arms were leaning comfortably as I spun my computer chair.

"Wow, so much for becoming productive." Rino had just walked in unnoticed.

"What do you want to do today?" I asked her innocently.

She raised a brow. "You know what we're going to do today."

"No idea. Sorry. Nope." I gurgled my mouth wash as she stared at me intensely.

She pinned me down with her tenacious glare. "Don't lie to me."

"I-I don't know where the dog is? Please, please forgive me!" I hid in the corner with butt raised like a civilized person.

"We're going out, come on." her real voice came out. My dream girl is right here. Let's just sleep and escape into dreamland.

I lay on my back, seeing the beautiful princess kick me down. Before I was able to come to my senses, she tripped and fell onto me. I instinctively hugged her and locked her down, sniffing around her softness.

She struggled for a while and stopped moving. "Do you really like me or not?"

I instantly regretted my decision and let go. "O-okay, we're leaving now."

She pouted with arms crossed, still lying down. "Yeah, right."

"Come on, Rino. I'm sorry, okay? Sometimes I get a little too comfortable and do things right off the bat. I'm sorry." I wore my cap.

"I wasn't asking for your sorry," she mumbled. "I wanted you to continue. Hmph!"

Rino said we were invited to a talk show, and we were going there with my heart in pieces. I wasn't ready to be on a TV show yet, but when have I ever been ready?

We got down and walked through the secret pathway. We were greeted by more competent bodyguards. I wasn't surprised I guess. I was really hoping for more quiet time, but hey! This is a talk show after all.

"Good morning everybody, My name is Hank Wilson, and today, we have . . . Rino ! And Skyler!"

The scene's lights were vicious on my eyes. I'm not used to the light.

The host, Frog Kermit, rubbed his hands together and began the program: "Hello, hello! If it isn't for the two independent music artists that decided to come out of nowhere, we wouldn't have gotten your duo album,"—the crowd clapped their hands and cheered—" wouldn't we?"

We sat there with hands over mouth, frozen and staring wide-eyed.

"H-How did you two know each other? I mean, were you friends? Before all this?" He leaned forward glancing at the audience then back at us with a furrowed brow.

We mimicked his furrowed brow and replied, "Oh, that's . . . wow. When did "us" come from?"

My face cringed, narrowing my eyes toward my best friend as a response.

She pursed her lips out of surprise, cringing toward my embarrassment.

"Oh, yes, we're actually neighbours."

"Ooh! I see!"

"Yes, we met under a fine afternoon at my doorstep. She came to my house, famished and asking for help."

"And what did she need help with?"

"She needed help with her video, but I didn't know how she knew I sang and played guitar. It was days later when she finally spoke about it."

"You didn't ask me." She gave a twisted smile I would spit my drink to if I had one.

"Oh right, it was when I asked you that you explained yourself."

"If you could humor me, Sky, are you going to continue your partnership with each other?"

Okay, now that's a knee-clapper. "Yes, of course."

Oh. . . D-don't tell me. I tilted my head toward her. She . . . blushed, looking below me with mouth agape.

Sooner or later, once we reached the intersection our houses were structured beside, Rino nudged me on the shoulder. "Hey, did you really mean that?" I hate this. I made a mistake.

"Yeah, you know? Or partnership as best buddies in everything?" I tried to get the situation under control.

"Are you sure? In everything? Meaning 'life'?" bombared my good friend.

"Yes," I replied, conflicted between the right hemisphere of my brain and my left.

Before Rino closed her door, she remarked, "Don't worry. I know you don't mean it. I was kidding."

. . . now, that's a bad sign.

If you're thinking, "How did Sky get to live such a carefree life without striving?", then, my answer for you would be "Have patience. And lenient, hardworking parents."

Why do you need hardworking parents? Firstly, They allowed me to gather all the free time I had to practice self-discipline. Secondly, even if they wouldn't teach me how, they gave me the books I needed to research self-discipline through philosophy and psychology.

And why is patience crucial here? Patience, for me, is like fear. Expose yourself long enough. Your heart could burst. When you gradually slide into exposure, however, you might just find shelter in the new abilities you will have formed: patience and confidence.

Narcissists bear the most scars they say. How would I know? They could have been like that since they were born!

I long doubted the possibility of my own lack of credibility since speaking out. I could be a covert narcissist myself. Who knows? The complications inspired me to work harder.

I hate the dull pleasure. The dull pain. The dull wait. I want meaningful time spent.

I missed the shallow weather. Its own tranquility led me to intensely shape the art with the vibrating frequency of elegance. Exacting the pinpoint location of the centre of arithmetic burst.

What I'm trying to say is giving focus to my writing without any blaring distractions helps me perceive the best conscience for the arts. My left brain exercises and talks to me this way while my right brain makes sure he's not illogical and improper with his use of words.

I got my guitar and freestyled for a dozen minutes or so.

Rino's metal screaming reminded me of the few times I wanted to learn how to "scream".

I turned on my laptop to see any updates on the novels. They were hungry for more books as usual. Bookworms all over the place.

I read several comments on my e-books. I took in opinions while satisfied with the book already. I could use the information to further my coming books. I pled with them on my discussions tab not to think their words were wasted, for they've been very helpful.

My dying comic artist persona needs a little boost in motivation. My tiny group of fans are crying in the comments telling me I can't stop.

None of these sides of me directly state who I am. I put out a little honesty and such but not to the point of revealing myself.

I remembered my mother and father all of a sudden. My mom and I were both volunteers to a non-profit organization. My dad volunteered a little when he had time, but it was the sweet moments with the crew that made me smile.

But one day, we ran into a problem with the organization that led us to separate and deattach from it. My mom still volunteers in other ways, but my dad has long distrusted others after that.

I had never felt indebted within the organization. I had patiently hoped for a better me every single moment I had been with them.

I wanted to be better because of them, despite not having the necessary knowledge yet.

Sooner or later, my intrusive yearn for growth led me to adapt a perfectionism that would otherwise destroy my self-confidence.

I missed the old days, but they reminded me of my incompetence at the time. For a long time, I couldn't fully accept this.

I stopped everything, turning off my laptop, closing the lights, and laying in bed. Troublesome thoughts could go even further if I linger in stress.

The peace and quiet. The down-to-earth lifestyle. Stoicism.

"Engineering, or analytical, planning, and logical writing, and farming, or wait-see-and-work-accordingly writing. Writers use a mix on both. It varies, according to what and how you want your readers to see."

" 'I'm no professional', says the professional." Aya, my younger sister, came in, removing her shoes on my doorstep.

I didn't want to bother moving out of a relaxed posture, but my door was locked.

I slowly lifted one leg, then lifted the other, and rolled myself out of bed.

"I have fruits and salad over here if you like!" She peeked in from the window. Help.

"What salad? Caesar's salad?" I unlocked the door and opened it.

"Yeah, the roman emperor one." She put down her things and hugged me.

"I can't eat egg, remember?" I looked in the shopping bag and there were egg trays, mangoes, and the roman emperor salad inside.

"Y-you can't? W-Wha, I thought you were vegetarian but egg-friendly or something." She was in the bathroom, fixing her self.

"The lacto-ovo vegetarian one? No, I'm not that kind of vegetarian"—I munched on a crouton—"I'm actually a lacto-vegetarian."

She scavenged her personal bag right after she used the bathroom. "Oh there it is!" she exclaimed.

"What 'there it is'?"

She brought out a Master's Degree in Software Engineering. I stood up, slack-jawed and gripping on table.

I didn't care about people as much as I cheered for my two younger siblings. For me, she and Ray, my younger brother, were the two I hurt the most. Many times I grasped motivation because of my fear of paining them any longer.

I wasn't intimate with my two older siblings. They seemed like towering giants behind me. I believed they were waiting for my every movement, hoping to prove me faulty.

I attempted to open up and ask them directly a couple times, but our cynicism and naive suspicion didn't help at all.

I let it go after getting overwhelmed by the horror of loneliness from our countless disagreements.

We weren't exactly bad people, for our insides were boiling with unresolved fear, pain, and anger.

Even now, I seek my energy from my sensory deprivations, curiosity, and momentums.

I love travelling, but I hate travelling at the same time. Thinking about so many things at once: getting a plane ticket, getting a hotel, fixing up things to bring, many necessary talking, ect.

All I needed is a few scenery pictures, videos, and music on the net and I'm all set for imagination to take off. I also can't forget to listen to some thoughts and experiences of others on the net.

I imagined the world without the need to travel, using VR at your own desk. It could be a stimulating experience to behold, but I wonder what kind of life people of all ages would live. I wish for the best. For everybody. For happiness.

I fell asleep. My dreams consisting only of the final thoughts I had before sleeping. My body felt surreal as I awakened, light, resilient and autonomous.

My parents were narcissistic. They made it a point to make sure we were the ones to blame which became a self-fulfilled prophecy in itself as we lost confidence, lost motivation, and got addicted. They say things like they made mistakes in the past. "But that was the past," is what they would say, implying they were mature and experienced ones who stopped doing wrong.

I deny ever needing them in terms as emotionally loving parents, because it's what they should've gave that I will grasp on my own through learning. I didn't think this way for a while. I focused on writing and music until I found recognition. I drew manga by the time I was an adult.

Now, I'm learning what it means to connect with my fans. Producers have been tapping me on the back, yearning for me to start moving.

I wonder. Will it be worth it?

I'm not necessarily unprepared. I have no reason on not going. It's my own time being gathered.

My research on the net has gotten me somewhere at least. I found dozens of principles and life philosophies to get me going. I need to go. This is what I dreamed of as a child. I can't let myself stay sick forever. This is my time to shine.

With the beats rolling around the sides of the room, I laid back on a couch.

"Here's your drink, Sir," cooed the waitress. She smirked, leaving with one more drink to serve. She handed it to a female co-star.

The female co-star peeked at me with dilated eyes.

I viciously drank the wine. It soothed me from within my soul, replacing my anxiety attack.

"Rino, you can stop staring at me now."

The female co-star, or Rino sat on a comfy chair a few meters from me. She frowned, legs crossed away from me.

"Rino, why don't you sit beside me here? It's more comfy."

I thought: I don't want to make her feel estranged or scared of me.

My old school crush ignored my attempts 5 times to count, and I really trusted her as a kind person that time. Everytime I remember those times, I get anxiety attacks often. I try my best to calm it down, but it would be better if I didn't have them at all.

I don't want her to have the same problem. I know she doesn't have anyone else except me, and I better respect that fact. Her parents are long gone, she's an only daughter, and she doesn't really have friends considering her shyness, and she doesn't attend school.

If someone has issues, then it's all of us, but if these issues are dealt with from the inside, no doubt a happy life is ahead of us.

"Why?" She slowly turned towards me.

She's a dear friend of mine, too.

"It's heaven in this couch. I'm serious." I'm essentially attempting a snow angel on a couch.

"Okay." She politely stood up, walked towards me, and sat down.

"Can I hug you?" She jolted and froze. "If you don't want, it's fine."

"O-okay, sure," she whimpered.

I hugged her softly at first, but I bear hugged her after she loosened up.

We rode on Aya's car, stopping by a store before heading home.

I told Aya she could stay over. I don't like travelling long distances late at night, and I thought she felt the same.

She gave a bitter laugh, putting up a peace sign. She stated, "I was planning to stay over anyways."

"Oh, is that so?" I gave a deep chuckle.

I browsed through a forum of a well-known content creator on the net. I saw numerous entries from her fanbase over there. They posted anything that'd be interesting to see, but it wasn't the forum that captivated me: it was her fans creating a community with her.

I should do the same, maybe. I wouldn't care though, would I? Vlogging for me sounds like something I do everyday. I tend to talk as if I was talking to an audience all the time for some reason. . . eh.

I stopped by the balcony. I don't have a balcony. Oh, I looked through the window. It's nice seeing fine weather. By fine weather, I mean rain weather. Cold air seeping through the windows feels nice. It's dreamy like that dude in the rain.

Wait. Why is there a dude in the rain? He in the middle of the street. He closed his eyes! What am I seeing? I better help him!

I ran outside, wearing the slippers I only use when I want to stop by Rino's house.

The man still had his eyes closed. I yelled "Hey!"

Realizing how wet I became, I went back to get an umbrella.

Once I got back, his eyes were open, taking a total 4 seconds before rotating his head toward me.

I put a hand under my mouth."Uh. Hey! You're in the middle of the road. and it's raining!"

He slowly opened his umbrella. "I like the rain."

I coughed. "Me too. But it's freezing and you could get sick."

"I don't get sick," he plainly muttered, closing his umbrella again.

"I. Hey. It's . . . nevermind." I slowly walked back back home and lay down. "That was exhausting. I don't like those kind of conversations. I can't win at them. Or handle them is what I meant to say."

It's nice to lie down. I fell asleep shortly after.

I gathered myself, sitting in silence for a minutes. I did a cold shower to maintain emotional balance. I ate apples to appreciate my senses. I resumed my gym training after a 6-day absence. I walked around the park to regain pace. I stopped by a convenience store to buy fruits and milk. I came back home, desperate to daydream. I freed myself of emotional baggage and I'm ready. Writing the next book in the series really helps to calm my nerves. I feel delighted and honoured to have another day with independence.

I don't to want to ever again lose my momentum. It's not even something I can do without getting anxious and depressed and then addicted to something or things. It's a no-no for me.

I realized soon enough the fellow on the street was my neighbor. Okay, so here's the gist of it. So basically, Rino's the neighbour beside me on my left, and the other guy, who I'm hoping to know the name of, is the neighbour to my right. He doesn't go out except to "bathe" in the rain as his other neighbours would quote it. They called him mahilig sa ulan, which means "rain lover" in their native language.

Right back where he started: my desk and laptop. A dreamworld awaits.

I stopped. "Wait. Where's Aya?"

I went back to my room to see her sleeping with arms and legs stretched. She's having the time of her life, huh.

"Oh my gosh. He's seriously going to win this." My sister woke up. She's stimulating this time of the day.

"What's up?"