Jumbled thoughts

The world is going to end...

The reality is finally beginning to set in. I hate it. I hate being in doomer mode, dammit! I was fine before Jeter the weirdo and his band of bastards showed up, no, before Jeter showed up. If he hadn't show up, I wouldn't have even bothered messing with trying to save the world.

Why?

Why am I now suddenly trembling and struggling to sleep? Was it because of fashion bitch stealing away two months of my life? Must be. Sadly thinking about all this isn't gonna help me sleep nor make sense of it. Worse, I don't have sleeping pills and the drugstore has long since closed. But do I even want to sleep? ... Why is that question even entering my stream of thought? Of course I want to sleep! From my point of view, I haven't gotten any rest ever since the day I first met Jeter. Heck, why the hell is he claiming 2 months have past? It's only been a day, dammit! One fucking day! End of story, good night!

...

When I opened my eyes again, it was morning. I checked my phone, but threw it at the wall when the date shown suggested that not only had 2 months past, but another week had gone by as well. No wonder the world's ending, that Jeter bastard's trying to Rip Van Wrinkle my ass!

Getting dressed, I went outside to find that everyone seemed to be behaving normally, like before all the "world is ending" crap debuted on TV. Maybe it was all just a fad, or they stopped giving a fuck. They're all still bald or wearing bald caps so maybe that's the secret to their mood shift. I don't care. I need to find that goth girl and try to hit it off with her so I can get some answers and save the world. ... Why?

Why do I feel this desire to save the world? I never gave a fuck about it before, so why? Maybe I just want to save myself. Whatever, I'm turning off the philosophical side of my brain. I need to find the goth girl.

"HEY GOTH GIRL! I WANNA TALK TO YOU, SO GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE!"

... No response. Typical.

I decided to cautiously make my way back to the ZWO building, but upon arriving there, found nothing but an empty plot of land. Lovely, I really am at square negative two and falling further back by the second. Though I guess if I look at things from a different perspective, fashion bitch and the fat ape are both out, so that's two down, two left assuming Jeter is stubbornly set on letting us all die out.

Seriously, why did he have so much authority? I don't care if he's the so-called god of this world, he's doing a lousy job running it! Not to mention when his buddies showed up, they phrased things in a way that it'd would be possible to save the world if I could convince one of them successfully. Yet I convinced the fat ape, and even fashion bitch, even though she initiated more of a hostile takeover. So why was Jeter given the ultimate say?

As I began to ponder things further, an unsettling voice rang out. "Hey, hey, why you sporting such voluminous hair? I thought you were a baldy. Or... Was that all an act?"

I recognized the voice. It was that creepy bald psycho that worked at the reception counter. I dared not turn around. I was terrified. I didn't want to see that smiling psychopath ever again. But as sick jokes would have it, in my haste to escape, I tripped and as I picked myself up, there was the smooth and shiny hairless face of my nightmares. Except, something was different. Her smile wasn't as wide, there were bags under her eyes, and speaking of her eyes, they looked... sad.

Sad, depressed, every synonym for sad you can think of. And with this fact putting my fear of her on pause, I was now able to see her entire body was now trembling.

"What happened to you?"

The words left my mouth on their own. But I couldn't help it. She didn't look like she was OK, but also that she wanted help.

Tears began to ooze out of her eyes. "I got fired and unjustly sued. Now it's all over."

Don't care, bye.

Yet the thought never left my lips. Instead, I asked her to explain things.

A meek smile appeared on her face. "We can talk at the hair dresser-"

"Hell no!"

"Don't worry, I won't let them shave your head... That's just the only place I feel relaxed at talking about things."

"Well that's bad since that's the one place I hate being. Any other ideas?"

The girl pulled out her wallet of all things before mumbling something to herself. "The arcade I guess..."

"Now you're talking!"

A relieved smile spread across her face as she pocketed her wallet. "Thanks... I just need someone to talk to. Truth be told, I kind of don't wanna go to the hair dresser either. I have no reason to go anymore so me going would just be pilin' more sufferin' on me."

"Hmm?"

"Oh, you probably got a bad image of me for what I did on the job. S- Sorry. Name's Bri. Briana Spearmint."

"Momo Akasegawa," I cautiously mumbled back.

I still didn't fully trust her, but if she was putting on an act, hand her the award for best actress. But with nothing better to do, maybe letting loose at the arcade is what I need most right now.

As we began walking, Briana went quiet and even maintained a respectable distance from me. Again, she's either genuinely trying to redeem herself or pining for the best actress award. But I guess her being fired probably is true. I mean if the whole building she used to work at is gone, her job probably went with it. Still, my guard remains up. Right now I'm walking into the unknown, and when in the unknown, always keep your wits about you.