My Quiet, Horrible Life

If I had one talent to call my own, it was being good enough at blending into the background of life to survive.

School was only one of the facets of my life where that talent worked. No one paid me any attention, be it in class or afterwards at my part-time job stacking shelves. That’s how I preferred it. After all, I would have to explain myself - and worse, him, and our home - if anybody got closer to me.

Yet, sometimes, I couldn’t help but wonder: What if it all was just a dream, and I had a life – a real, good life – waiting for me somewhere out there? I usually didn’t entertain these thoughts. They didn’t help me. But sometimes, I wanted to dream, to just be a kid.

I sighed. At least I was finished for the day. After I exited the supermarket, I slowed down, delaying my arrival back home. My hair’s getting long again, I thought, twisting a dark strand between my fingers until it curled upwards. I should cut it before anyone notices.

But still, it was always sooner than I wanted it to be that our tiny house came into view. It looked darker than the neighboring houses, at least to my eyes. Dangerous. Shameful. No one ever noticed, sure, since no one ever came in. If they did, they would be able to tell that it was rotting from the inside. I opened the door, and suddenly, the summer air felt heavier, as if I could drink it. There was a sweet yet sour aftertaste.

“I’m home,” I said, loud enough that my father would hear me, but not loud enough that he would be annoyed by it. After years of consequences, I had learned just the right volume.

Of course, no answer came. But it was better he left me alone, pouring over his drinks or the TV or whatever else. I grabbed the pile of letters at the entrance and took my shoes off. A quick flip through was enough to tell the spam from the legitimate bills, and I sorted the important ones in an order that he wouldn’t be overwhelmed, so we still had a chance of keeping the hot water this month. The ones that didn’t matter landed in a corner of the kitchen between thin plastic trash bags.

Something had gone bad, again, and gave off an even worse stench than what greeted me in the hallway. At least there were some untouched Instant Ramen Cups, one of which I took (the non-spicy ones that my father hated) and made myself my lonely dinner.

We had found a way to live alongside each other. He never talked to me, and I kept away from him. As long as I supported him financially, and didn’t make trouble at school, it was bearable. I knew he was struggling – even before she left. And now? He hated my face. How it so clearly showed what I felt for him: anger, fear, and worst of all, pity. And yet, I couldn’t bear to leave him. Some days, I wished he would get his act together. Others, I wished he would simply vanish. Those were the days I hated myself the most.

With the steaming cup in my hand, I finally went into my room. The only place in this dump that felt safe to me. I let my bag slide to the floor, and booted up my computer. I would just do the homework before class. The sooner I got out of the house, the better.

But not now. Not when un9vr342rup932 would be online.

They were my best friend, not only in the game ‘Light Journey’ that we played together, but in real life as well. I know how pathetic that sounds. A person I had never met, and who I could never meet (thanks to the game’s emote-only way of communication) was the one I called my best friend? It just showed that my life was at rock bottom. But the thoughts quickly vanished from my mind as the game finished loading, and I was ready for some fun.

They were already online, waiting for me at the entrance of some rocky ruins that we found during our last session. Their avatar had a lighter build, with light green hair that flowed around them with each movement. They were dressed in a petal-like dress and elegant shoes. The only thing that might seem weird to an outsider was their choice of having a belt fashioned as a giant, crimson millipede with golden legs crawling around their waist.

I watched their avatar spin twice, before they made a heart symbol with their arms over their head, their fingertips meeting on the crown of their head. My character mirrored the emotes. I couldn't remember when we started doing this, but it was our way of saying ‘hello’ and ‘goodbye’. We had managed to develop our very own language like this.

For the first time that day, a smile came to my face. un9vr342rup932 knew nothing of my troubles - and yet they knew me better than anyone else in the world. And I knew them, as well. Their love for bugs, and how they would excitedly make the bell sound three times to show me some low-resolution critter crawling over a tree. One bell sound meant ‘yes’, two meant ‘no’, three meant ‘look here’.

Exploring the world with them was the best, especially when we had to solve puzzles. Thinking of a solution and having to work with them to get it done was just satisfying. And sometimes funny, as well, when one of us didn’t make the jump or accidentally fell into a trap. I tried not to laugh out loud so as not to annoy my father or else he might cut our internet access entirely.

I shook my head. I didn’t want to think about him, or my life back in the real world, at this moment. This was wonderful. I felt light, and happy, in a way that lit up my otherwise gray world. It was the game, sure—but also knowing there was someone out there who cared about me, at least a little.

Right now, un9vr342rup932 was excitedly bell sounding at a crack in the ruin wall. I let out a bell sound myself, and came over. Together, we managed to make a hole in the wall, and finally had our way into the ruins. The inside was cool-toned, and a strange serenity settled in me. Light danced over the crumbling stones, and from somewhere, a flute sounded.

It’s nice to experience this together, I thought.

un9vr342rup932 clearly thought so, as well. They ran from side to side, excitedly spinning and making bell sounds. It was a strange contrast to the atmosphere the game tried to convey, but it was welcome all the same. Then, they stood at the center of the ruins, in a strange magic circle. They emoted there, changing from spinning to making hearts and then back to spinning. I let out a laugh. Sure, they were usually excited when we got to explore new areas, but this was more than usual. Still, I joined them, spinning with them in the circle, as if we were dancing.

This was the magic of gaming. A real experience, made by us two real players, not generated and dictated by the game itself. I wanted to spin endlessly with them, and I couldn’t help smiling.

Life is good sometimes, I thought. If it could stay like this—safe, with a friend by my side, enjoying the surprises that come with life—I would be happy. But I also knew it was nothing more than a dream. Once I turned the computer off, I would return to my life. My real life. With a father that was absent half the time, and overwhelmed or sad or angry the other half, with dirty clothes and unpaid bills and food that was already way past its best-before date.

I didn’t know if I had laughed too loud, or stomped my feet, or if I had done nothing. But suddenly, my father’s fist hammered against my door, loud enough to make me jump in my seat.

“Stay quiet!,” he raged, “or I’ll throw out that damn thing!”

I didn’t say anything. There was nothing I could say or do that would calm him down—not when he was this… sad, overwhelmed, angry? I didn’t know. I just knew that if I stayed quiet, he might cool off soon enough. That’s just how my life was, no matter how good it was online.

“And turn down the light!” he yelled through the closed door.

The light?, I wondered. That wasn’t right. I put my monitor on the lowest brightness setting exactly for that reason. But he was right—my room was strangely well-lit. But the light didn’t come from my monitor, but from the floor right under me. Intricate branches of light curled into strange symbols around a circle right where my feet touched the ground. In the game, I could still see un9vr342rup932 spin around me, the circle in the game lighting up the same way that I was.