2 Chapter 1: WRITER

The person who stumbled on this book, what's up? I have a question. No, it's not a mathematics-related question or asking you the hardest questions.

I have a simple question and answer it honestly, Are you a writer?

If yes, do you ever want to be a known top writer? Why and why not? You must answer this question. Skip it for bad luck.

If not but want to be a known top writer-- Good luck! Go, write your story and make it twisted. Just kidding. Go, write it and wait for a million years till you get a fan.

If not and just a reader who supports their favorite writer- come here, a hug from me! You get always emotional towards the fictional characters. Are you a fan of my works? Well, you have now the badge of being the COOLEST READER.

You must be my fan or else...

I sighed as I write this down. Being an underrated writer is hard, no one likes to read your book unless you are good or popular enough. I grabbed my can of soda and my empty box of pizza, heading to the table, and put it down.

I looked outside the window, the sun is shining and had clear skies. I slowly head to my room and change my shirt and went outside to buy food.

Few cars beeped against other's cars, trying to beat the traffic, and subtle chatters of students were heard as I passed by them, what a noisy hot day to go outside. I halted on my tracks and went inside a cream white with navy blue trim convenience store-- Oak Street's 24- Hour Convenience Store

"Welcome," a convenience-store clerk greeted as I went inside. I smiled as a response, I head to the cup noodles section and grabbed few noodles. The subtle music that filled the convenience store made me think that I already ate cup-noodles for more than a week, not a healthy diet. I sighed as I knew this is what I can only afford from my monthly income, I went to grab a drink and halted as I saw my reflection on the glass door of the beverages.

A jet black-messy-haired guy around his 20's, wearing a grey hoodie that matches his black eyes--I looked like a loser.

I shook my thoughts and grabbed my preferred beverages.

"Oh, I'm sorry" I said as I bumped into a black-haired young lady, wearing a beige blazer that matches her skirt. "Shan?"

"Shane?"

"Hey, how are you? And oh, I'm sorry if I bumped y---"

Shan laughed, "Hey, it's okay. No need to apologize. Chill, Shane" and pat a handkerchief on the damp part of her blazer.

"Still writing stories?" With her question, I gave her a smile as a reply. She looked up, waiting for my answer.

"Yeah" I replied, smiling.

"Bet you are already a top writ--"

"Anyway, I'll check out these items first and wait for me on that table and talk," I said, cutting her sentence off.

"Oh," she paused, looking at the items I'm carrying. "right..." she nodded, heading to sit on the table. I quickly went to the cashier to check out my items.

Meeting a high school friend again is quite embarrassing, especially the fact that I don't have a stable job.

"How are you, already found a job?" I asked, cutting her sentence off.

"Yeah, I have a job. I just got accepted today"

"That's great," I said, smiling. "Congrats! What a big day for you, huh?"

"Thank you" she replied, smiling. "So, how's your writing? Bet you made a lot of money from it"

"It's great, readers were supporting on my works. They love it" I lied.

"That's sooo great!' she exclaimed. "I wish I'm like you that has tons of fans. Must be nice to have some people commenting, loving your work and even giving you a gift!"

I only smiled at her as she keeps talking. Talking about your works to a friend especially you are popular enough is a great feeling and something to be proud but I'm the opposite of being popular and talking about my works, about me as a writer, it doesn't make me proud. I'm not proud of myself.

"Oh shit! I should go now, Shane" Shan said, looking at her watch. "I'm sorry to cut this off"

"No, it's fine."

Shan stood up and smile at me, "Let's hang out soon"

I nodded as I watched Shan head outside, people having stable jobs, relationships, friendships-- lucky for them. They have so many great things that happened to their life.

Unlike me who is an underrated writer that doesn't have enough income to sustain myself, I missed a lot of things in my life. I grabbed the brown paper bag and head back to my apartment.

As I head back to my apartment, a lot of kinds of stuff crossed my mind, what is it like to live in another world?

Writing myself through a character in a book isn't satisfactory enough, why I can't be like how my characters live? Strong, Brave and etc.

Why writing a story can't be applied in real life where I could change my plot, not going to write bad quality half-assed chapters?

avataravatar
Next chapter