What would you do if you had all the time in the world?
Would you lounge around knowing it didn't matter how much time you wasted? Or would you use that time to be the best version of yourself?
As I lie awake in my bed, I reach out desperately for an answer. I often did this. I would lay here in this bed and question where I had gone wrong in life. Most of the time I could never find the correct answer. Each answer ended in the same category, though. Lack of drive.
'Another sleepless night where I stared at a screen.' I recalled in annoyance.
The sound of my alarm going off was like a reminder that I hadn't gotten an ounce of rest again. Sitting up in my bed, I ignored the aching of my arms and back. Yet another terrible night where I used gacha games to supplement my lack of a personality and social skills.
The low quality of my bed wouldn't offer reprieve either.. It didn't help that this mediocre apartment was barely affordable. One bedroom and one bathroom for the low price of two thousand a month.
My lack of financial responsibility was a key factor in why I lived in such a poor apartment but I did not care. Money had no value to me in this life.
Most would claim I just didn't understand the value of money, I would then counter by asking them what made money so valuable in the first place. For the past twenty years I lived life as a mistake, a blight, that no one cared for. I held average standing academically and that was never enough for my parents.
So, I gave up. I stopped caring and just treated school like a chore. Doing it when it was necessary and passing by the skin of my teeth. My siblings often mocked me for being such a disappointment. Due to our horrible relationship, they hadn't heard from me ever. I was too ashamed, of being born or being a failure, I didn't know which.
I often thought about giving up. I could easily end this pathetic movie by skipping to the credits.
'No. That's pathetic.' I thought while wallowing in my self depreciation.
It was a dark thought. Too dark, even surprising myself. I felt so pathetic. I wanted to cry but I knew that wouldn't change anything. This crummy life was due to my shortcomings.
Forcing myself out of the bed, I made my way towards the bathroom. Upon entering, I glared at the mirror. My green eyes had their bright color contrasted by the tired appearance I wore. Underneath my eyes were black spots and bags. There was dirt and grime all over my face from lying in bed all day yesterday.
The brown that made my curly hair eye-catching was barely visible while my entire head was unkempt. This was due to days of not washing it or visiting a barber.I just couldn't keep going in this life. Nothing I did felt important.
I hated my previous job, so I quit. It was the same thing for every challenge or opportunity thrown my way. The only thing I hadn't given up on was my college degree. I don't have any high hopes for using it to land a job but it was still something I would earn on my own.
'I look like shit.'
My face had a scar running across the lip from an accident I had gotten into when I was teenager and it stuck out due to my pale skin. My body wasn't in the best shape either as I had become skinny due to not taking care of myself or eating properly.
Overall, I was unattractive and unbothered by it due to my lack of care.
'Oh well, I'll let future me worry about it.'
The ringing of my phone brought my attention outside of my bathroom. I exited my bathroom into my bedroom to grab my phone. Checking the caller identification, I felt a pit form in my gut.
It was my mother. The woman who had made my life hell for the past twenty years. Against my better judgment, I answered the phone. I immediately regretted it.
"Why is it I'm hearing from your younger sister that you won't be coming to your grandma's funeral?" Her bitter voice asked from the other side of the line.
I held back my usual witty retort. My grandmother was a sensitive topic for me. She raised me when my mother and her husband couldn't bear to raise such a marr in their beautiful family. After all, I was born from a union that held no consent
My grandmother never held it against me though. She often recounted to me how some people just couldn't handle having reminders of their pain around. I know she meant well, but I had been five, so I had stopped trying to earn my mothers love. I stopped trying to be her son. I tried being what she wanted. Nonexistent.
"I, uh," The hesitation in my tone was palpable. "I've just been struggling lately. You know, I need to find a job."
"Amaris, you've been searching for a job for over three weeks." My mother's tone turned cold. "That's no excuse to miss the funeral of the woman who raised you."
'We both know why you really want me there.' I thought bitterly.
My grandmother had left me as the only beneficiary in her will. That meant I was the only one to receive anything from her. After finding out about this. My family had been trying to cozy up to me. I knew they only cared now because I was receiving money. Money I needed.
My mother knew nothing of struggle. She was born into a wealthy family during a time where the pressure of the economy wasn't as bad. She and my father lived lavishly while babying my cousins and siblings. Yet, even with all that money, it was never enough.
"Why do you care?" I replied tonelessly, "We both know you hate me."
If my mother could have had it her way, I'd be disowned and forgotten. My grandmother, Mina Renat, wouldn't allow such a thing. She had screamed at my mother the second she mentioned such an idea.
"I-I just- Can't a mother worry about-"
"Well when you find a mother to worry about me please let me fucking know!" I screamed before hanging up.
I hate her. Didn't sink in yet? I hate her. Let me reiterate it. I hate her.
I didn't even bother showering. I would just put on what I had in my wardrobe.
Dressing myself in a simple t-shirt and jeans, I knew this was the best I could do for today. I put on my favorite pair of black and green sneakers because there was no better color combination.
I think I'll just disown myself from the family. I thought in frustration.
They may have forgotten all the scars they had given me, but I hadn't. I remembered everything. Every hit, every cut, and every insult.
Opening my door, I paused at an object in the middle of the floor.
My eyes trailed down to the open package addressed in my name. It was from the executors office. A letter attached to the box informed me about how my grandmother had left me something. In the executor's words, it was unique.
Bringing the box inside and sitting it on the kitchen table, I opened it. Inside was a pocket watch with a note attached to it.
The note read: Don't give up on life. Take a step back and realize how grand it is.
Those were the words my grandma told me when I attempted at thirteen.
It was a strange looking pocket watch. There was a single clock hand that moved in either direction. Whenever I did a full rotation either way, a gaue on the side would fill with this strange yellow light. I set it back a full day and the gauge went up by two, only filling up the gauge a tiny bit and looking like it peeked from behind the metal that kept the glass in place.
Gazing blankly at the watch I noticed how the crown was out of place. I clicked it back in place before pulling out my phone. I hesitantly dialed my mother's number. It rang twice before she picked up.
"What is it?" She questioned. Her voice sounded shaky, the kind of shaky that happens from crying.
"I." I paused before letting out a breath I didn't know I was holding. "I'll be coming to the funeral, that's all."
I could hear her breath hitch on the other side of the line. I didn't bother waiting for her to respond though. I just hung up and placed my arm on the wall before laying my head on that arm.
"What the hell am I doing?" I asked myself.
I couldn't answer myself and that scared me. It scared me because I was doing something I hadn't done since I was a kid.
I was trying to live.