Pseudo-American

"I am a Pseudo-American, J. What does that mean? Well, see, I have the same mental bandwidth as americans. I have more knowledge about America than the Americans themselves and even more culturally literate than the residents themselves are!"

J looked at me quizzically, the spoon of ice cream stopped right before his mouth.

"Dude, the effect of that one year in isolation is showing the effects, bro… are you alright?"

"Tch~ Not you too, J. I thought you would get me…"

J scrapes his cup with the spoon.

"Look, I get that you're frustrated with your current situation but that doesn't mean you can just keep on relying on escapism. Trust me, I was like you one time. But, a man gotta pull his shit up. Listen to me, I have a contact in a telecom company. You just need to go there and do small jobs like copying things or attending seminars, and within three months you will become a full-time employee…"

He must have seen the look on my face because he got up. I rise, he puts his right hand on my shoulder.

"Atleast get better for your poor family, yeah?" 

I follow him to the counter. I search for my wallet but J pushes it away. 

J hops on his bike, he takes the helmet.

"Think and call me about the telecom company, alright?"

He wears his helmet and sets off on his motorcycle, leaving a trail of exhaust.

Fuck this telecom shit, they are just going to make me a corporate slave. It's better to be a fucking bum. Like that school poem said, better be a king of myself rather than a slave to another. All these motherfuckers are just looking down on me. 

Well, what can I do? I'm the only guy who's got no job or nothing. All those motherfuckers who were so jovial in the school days are not even in contact these days. 

J, the guy so pretentious, was no great shit when he was in highschool. It was my pocket-money that he used for canteens and after-school snacks. He was the one who made my highschool life embarrassing. I went under so much shit just because he wanted to get more clout. Shit.

Where did it all go wrong…

When I reach home, it's the same thing all over again. Everyone will look down on me from their high nose bridge. I do nothing but rub a few times and scroll through endless hours of nothing. 

Fuck, life's so depressing.

It's better to go somewhere else…

"Hey! Black t-shirt! Look–"

Multiple voices shout from my back, I turn to find what the commotion is. When I realized, I was wearing a black t-shirt.

Something crashes into me and I feel like flying.