Chapter Text
Decided; That the days prior to weekends are no times for concerns over, or to fret on what these pages may contain. Weekends be the times. Why would I fret over these pages? Why would I let them take over, like sins, of flesh and thus of soul, over to my other concerns that demand more attention? I plan to abandon this. Even if I can't, then I will, gradually.
To whom am I writing this for? This is a cinema without any seats installed, nor tickets for me to hand—neither wish I—nor a hand to receive any. Empty, but the screen stays in illumination, in theatre mode. For what? Most begone are the days of impulses, they've never belonged to me—Have they? Haven't they? Regardless, this is all futile, nothing good comes out of it, the Earth spins all the same—
Today, I woke up, six in the morning, drowsy, quite, for I didn't realize the time of the midnight had struck as I studied. I recalled the place which the President had told us to gather wherein, and from there, go whereto. Time had decided for me to have an early free time from the exile of my home. It was unexpected, yes, but that makes it dandy. As if, reality simply liquified and didn't hold so stern a form. I wished that every walk brought with it no similarities to the walks prior. Every side of perspective, its own twinkle shines in a different spot, a different—and quite the curious—shine, leaving no exile to the same presentation. Twinkle twinkle.
After the brooding of this hub of Millennium's, the peace of home, and the brooding of home, I arrived there, President and Kagami early. Some vending machines offered their enchristened drinks. President told us that the journey is meant to strengthen our bond, for we will stay for three years with each other, so it is better to spend them with the ones we trust.
“My suggestion,” my friend said, and her suggestion was to go to a ramen shop, but not any ordinary ones. This was one where each seat was like its own open locker, one sits there with thick muting walls all’round, exorcizing the demons that are the sounds of others. What folly, this fellow perhaps wishes to be in a box herself, unmoving wherein nor whereout, and I must extend her own speech by my own, for she said not a line further. She had said she'll stay with this club forever, but in a timid tone, I suspect it's that a club is by its own ways a box.
“Several,” Kagami said, “why not several places in one journey? Trust me, I've gotten to many places that I can answer any whereabouts of buildings. Kivotos is so large, and our homes are so small.”
From this point on, I did not know when or wherefrom my friend submerged herself halfly within a cardboard box. Such dirtiness too, primarily how it had leaves within. She complained; Can't they just stay in the club and do work? She fears the judgment of public persons, especially adults, and more especially students of other academies, and clubs, basically; anyone other than us, God forbid. How come? Once again suspecting she is simply hiding a little rot of hers, and yet the efforts of hiding it makes it all the more inadequate more than the main subject being hidden itself. Or, she is simply allergic to new things.
Though this did not go unnoticed. Kagami pulled her and lifted her out. “How are you going to experience life, then? Inside a box? In a chamber? Just rearranging knowledge in your fantasy land? You ought to be corrected on this; It isn't all that bad!”
Friend held onto box, she worried of her own airheadedness, so she worded it as such. That she may toil with this, or that, mayhaps do a wrong gesture, perchance this and that becomes ruined by her. She needed ordering, methinks. Complaint also, that her expertise is in the club, and not in whatever dazzles Kagami described.
“How’d you know you wouldn't thrive?! Or, even, survive at all! If we're going, you are, too. Stop being in your head. You're like a sheep trying to find the suffocatingly small farmhouse, when perfectly green meadows, and grass is literally right beneath you!”
President intervened. Don't be so forceful, said she. She told my friend to be open, too. We agreed that perhaps we wouldn't do ‘several’ destinations in a journey.
We went to a resort located ashore beside a beach. We, however, did not swim, but merely observed it as we tried all the culinary sorts. The foods were presented greatly, and so were the taste similarly thus. All things boney, or of shells, were taken out, and only the scrumptious flesh remained. The cuts felt like no human hands held the handle of the knife, and that it was always like this. The kitchen was barely audible, and neither did its heat permeate out whatsoever. The spiky parts of the fishes were taken and snatched, the waiters were comparable to that of the robot waiters in Millennium, though the latter while brief in noting and did not need a repetition of the orders, were prone to errors or malfunction. My friend did not talk that much, save with me, whereas President was surprisingly gentle and kind enough to pay for the whole thing, which, I thought she’d be strict, for someone of whom experience in the world of high academics has been lengthy.
The architecture was fine, clean, all clean sides, pillars were gorgeous, white, and floor tiles were clean. It all looked, tasted, and felt like they came straight from the heavens, a primordial constant beyond time, architectured by no one, had always been as such. It drew its power from the heavens, neither from a clumsy human nor a clumsy world.
The meat, and the fruits, were all as perfect as the concrete, or the tiles.
Symmetries, that Millennium would’ve taken a fond of.
However, at times, my friend did not decide to look anywhere else save for when it is within my proximity. Sometimes, when it is confirmed that we will stay fix in one area, she’d nod gladly at the duration of this stay, and proceed to cover all the angelic walls from her own eyes by going under a cardboard, leafy box. Green, and brown blasphemy over the tiles. Those withdrawing eyes avoided the shimmers of the walls. It motivated me to explore. I forbid myself to be like her. Places, new and unseen. My tongue's tastebuds expanded with each timeless cuisine presented. Views and whatnot which I’ve never thought would become totems of my memory palace.
Why would she hide under a box? Does she still talk with her fables, or plushies for a friend? Does the darkness of the box simulate the vast expanses of the mountains within the mapping of whatever story she had read ten years ago?
In the end of this, we looked at the beach itself, though the sands were messy enough to have its own grains intrude my shoes. The sun, this supposed force of life, permeated the sky with its color, sneaking past my retina under the veil of blue. Had to cover it with my hands, and unfortunately, no chambers could protect me from the heat. The seas were deep, vast, clouds cloaked the horizons. This is why imagining being on a ship, or, on a plane, is quite a fright.
President asked for my opinion on it. In fact, she did so for every destination, to everyone else. I'm fine, pres, no need for my answer. Tis all fine, silent nod.
And so, we took a walk again, quite the exercise, but it is fine. Here, my friend almost, borderline attached herself onto me. Had to rethink if my decision of being her first friend was a good choice or not.
There were crowded streets. As it turns out, some factor of the crowdiness were caused by some students having had a prototype (already?) of their own submission to the Millennium Convention (though some call it Millennium Expo), and wishes to gain the opinions of the common folks, because they are the consumers of its utility.
What was lovely of the streets, were how clean they were, and I can see the differences of advancements between the vehicles of my hometown and over here, obviously the close proximity to Millennium may perhaps have motivated the progress to incremental tweaks of things. It is better than the crooked schools—minor as they were, in relation to other schools there—within my hometown, for there, at least, fortunately just once, cobwebs were visible. Rebars, too, were visible, the construction workers hands felt as an apparitions on its surfaces.
And in a way, our next destination was of a similar atmosphere. It was my friend's suggestion. And I agreed with President, that a long time within the previous resort had caused tiredness and burnout to intrude our bodies. So, there, we were split into four lockers— would lockers be a good way of saying it? Perhaps it was like a cubical, however it is smaller, more rectangular, taller than it is wide. The textures of the wooden walls were a little rough, as if they had come from the tree fresh, and the architecture was not the best. The food was fine, though it had a little strange taste that I found later only I had felt a distaste for. It was the chef's own unique mesh of herbs, from their own homeland, “Count that in the human element; my mother's spirit.” said they.
Was it a new experience? Yes, I guess.
We went elsewhere subsequently after, though these two stand out the most, stand out beyond the Arcade, or any other.
Though I felt like I had a surfeit of roaming. It was not that my legs had wished to give way, for, even then, it would be forced against its will to continue so long as I wished to continue going. Every worker seemed refined, and I worry; will I look silly in their place? In their occupation? Eyes from therearound. Oh, but ancients always complain kids these days.
It was that there was no consistency, so to say, something to anchor me into a consistent reality, instead of going elsewhere unknowing of anything, an endless sort of probability, belonging to no universe but simply the foggish multi. Disorienting might be the word. It became eerie at that point. And it was far beyond any wager—it would be free profits to wager such—that my friend did not get any better, but had the same feelings of mine. So, there we ended off our journey. She definitely would feel better off to let the box translate the entirety of the cosmos outside into her own imaginations, her own past.
I did not trust my steps, neither—again—my own image in front of these workers of destinations to which we attend to. If I rest, then I slack, where do I step? But then, who can blame me being lost but me? However wouldn't I be too confined to simply follow with the others? Decisions weigh on my feet, so much so it had to choose the lightest passage.
But, screw all of that, now, I'm home! The walls block all eyes, and the world is reduced in its invisibility. I can lay down on the bed with no sense of guilt that my feet are not dancing across the stage of the resort!
Now it feels much more appealing to write down of ordinary things. Such as how I've purchased the sufficient ingredients and had made, for my own dinner, the food I used to eat in my past home, or how after a long hiatus, spanning months, finally, I can simply be a little commenter under the touring Livestream of a certain popular Gehenna fellow, comforting me before night. Comforting me as I read, and not realizing; shit, it indeed is way too midnight.
So, unfortunately, I must blanket myself now, and schnooze.
I can't avoid it, and I can't sleep with having it in my heart. You'll have to take this one, diary page, ease my burdens.
For every time I remarked something, or of Kagami when we were by ourselves, she was silent, and what loud silence that was, this false crowned pig. Remarked her skills at the game, and she simply stayed silent, why? I had beaten her finally, after three rounds total, and so must she drown herself in bitter silence, withdraw from all things and give no response, as if, she is to signal discreetly—and such an obvious discreet or secrecy that it comes off as such an insulting test of the mind—that the world, or, perhaps me, holds no worth for a time of elaboration? Was that to the extent in which she took such a game seriously? And her silence simply had my voice echoed in the silence, why? Her remarks are simply short and dismissive, a smirk, a so-sudden and convenient “Don’t take it to heart.”
She showed us all around the places she had been to, pulled us to the main spots that engraved itself in her memory, and for what? Must we not go elsewhere beyond your colorful own fantasy? Are you comfortable merely within these specific spots? Why not go elsewhere then, if Kivotos is so large, can't even go elsewhere you are uncomfortable onto? False name for an explorer like yourself— to answer any whereabouts! And so blank and empty a smile at times, and a withdrawal some other. She may perceive me, but she's such a low fellow. A hypocrite, dilettante of exploration, that it numbed my experience of it. For what does she see, does she smirk? Is it because she herself was afraid of being pried into? And that is why she has to conceal her frustration of loss, and the burnout of the expedition? And a secret distaste of the cubicle ramen? And Don’t take it to heart. A little graze fucks up a heart. Cold indifferent performance, spewing blazey innards. And all performance of this fellow only convinces me the opposite. But that is still just taking it to heart. And two to one score, embittered regardless?
Let these pages omit this week's experience, with her, or any other. I must sleep, and clutter be gone.
All the correct my intuition; Arrogant and Cynical, have I not ascribed to her? Mei and Mizuki just under a different kind of head temper.
Blank face. Poker face. Pretentious to be a clean tile. Nothing but a reflection of sister. A reflection of M, and the other M. I won't think even for a second she belongs, let alone alike me.
No
I have Decided, haven't I? Then, there are many more of me to be Decided.