A Glimpse At The Past

Being able to study in high school once more, might bring out everyone’s sour face. If you were to ask them, they’d say they prefer working as a miner as a minor, than to do one single algebra problem; the untold, limitless dangers of being thousands of miles under the ground, can never even begin to compare to the painful, terrifying act of determining if a function has a limit or not.

Of course, the assumptions above are dramatically exaggerated, in order to demonstrate their discomfort with studying. Nonetheless, the mere thought of studying something you’re not able to comprehend, or not even fond of, might be enough to give someone like me cancer.

And to someone like me, who was given a second chance at life, by a person I enjoy spending time with, studying algebra is…

It’s still disgusting. To be frank, I was told many times that I was a good kid, but I was never good with studies.

I glance over my desk; it’s eleven pm.

I always felt like a freeloader, and no matter how many times she told me not to, I still felt anything but comfortable; It was better than staying home doing nothing. I didn’t want to be someone like my dad, going around, indebted to every single person I meet, so I started looking for a job a while back, and landed one after two weeks.

These days, I arrive home at ten in the evening, even later than she does; and the second I arrive, I sprint upstairs, passing it off as normal fatigue; even though the truth is, that I just don’t want to face her anymore; I keep reminding myself what the contract dictates me to do, but I simply can’t help it.

So, in order to fix the contract, I decided to fix myself. I decided to live a better life than my father the second I stepped foot here; to make a living on my own, and finally, begin living on my own.

Of course, I will not be holding my end of the deal. I decided to buy this room, and get out of this contract, that’s why I’m doing this.

The opportunity of meeting Naomi, getting to live another life with her, and acquiring a second chance, seems like something straight out of a fairy tale. It doesn’t even seem like fate anymore. It feels like a result of someone practicing dark magic.

And I owe everything to her; that’s why I’m trying to make a living on my own until I don’t need her money, or her house anymore; until I can finally tell her that I won’t be her friend anymore, and this time, I’ll be the one listing my demands instead.

She might be feeling lonely for a while, but if I want her, then I need to stop being a loser.