Writer's Café discussion

Holla. Welcome to Rea's chamber of sin, where she puts random writing stuffs. Early warning that contents may be absurd, plotless, and make you wonder why the owner of this thread hasn't been assasinate every two hours.

ox

This is a horrid writing. I'm just trying to get into my character's head. I'm sorry that I don't use big, pretty dictions. I'm trying to figure out what it's like to be inside my character's head and hear his narration. And he's pretty skewed, his mind is not beautiful at all.
Also, if you're wondering, yes this is a character from TSSAR. And yes, this is about Perry.

Someone once told me that smooth-talkers are always trying to sell you something. The thing that they sell? Doesn’t matter. The point is, thanks to that, I wake up every day muttering that mantra. My motto transcended from ‘words live longer than men so make your own history that's worth to be remembered’ to ‘cut the bullshit, you’re not people-pleaser’. Sadly, in contradiction, ‘making people happy’ is kind of in my job description. Actually, it’s in the job description for everyone who wants to make it from caste three and up. Twist the honesty and add a little bit of a lie—been there, done that. I feel terrible for people from high caste, because for them, the curtain never closed. They have to act it out for the rest of their life, because they’re the model figure that this society finds easier to like. I know, because I’m a One. I’m the biggest pretentious shit, and I’m not going to deny that. Not that I’m happy about it, nor that I want to find a time machine so I can go back to the past and prevent certain event from happening so my future will be changed-I mean, don’t you learn anything from cyberpunk stories? It leads to absolutely no better scenario-. I guess I’m okay with accepting my current situation, occasionally poking things to find my limit so I can finally draw a line between ‘dumb ideas that probably are going to work’ and ‘dumb ideas that are equivalent to the death wish’. Few unhappy men, and I will be dead. By men, I mean, anarchists with enough donation from God-knows-where to buy illegal weapons or what I call self-proclaimed rebels. And by dead, I mean, literally not figuratively. I know, cause the rebels, by that I mean Southerns, are pretty transparent when it comes to the reason why they always barge into the Palace uninvited.

So of course, turning my life into a reality show where I have to spend months with 35 strangers with cloudy background and intention is a pure genius tradition we have to keep. Underline my sarcasm there. But that’s the problem for future me. Although, that future will be my present in no time, still, it’s in the future. It’s counting down, yes, but it’s not happening right now.

Funny things happen to me all the time, actually. For example, I’m quite suspicious that whatever unseen power up there across the dimension, is messing with my fate and actually enjoying it. When I was little, I used to think that my life would make a horrible sitcom. It was like, ‘So… Yeah… You’re the first born son, so you’re going to be a King, and we’ll throw some kind of harmful game for these naïve, daydreaming girls out there once you’re old enough so you can pick a wife, it’s slightly worse than being betrothed since birth, right? We’re cool? We’re cool.’-Basically, I was given two options:

a) Say yes.
b) Pick option a.

Then I grew up a little bit, and I thought my family would make a good tv show, because I finally realized the diversity on my family. My father is that one person who can do basically anything and looks effortlessly good while doing it, because he has tremendous hair. My mother is a lovely woman that can crush a tea cup with one hand, and massively honest in expressing her real feeling. My brother thinks everyone who’s genetically not related to him is alien. My sisters, in one sentence, jumped from a fairy tale book about sparkling princesses and unicorns. Not to mention my relatives and their on-point personality. Meanwhile, I used to stick as one-dimensional supporting character who does all the ‘rolling-eyes-while-he-sighs-but-hey-no-one-cares’. Then I hit puberty and I was having a hard time recognizing whether my life is a black-comedy or a neo-noir. Trust me, being a royal is amazing and anyone who says the otherwise is just jealous. But you can’t help it not to think once or twice to fake your own death and ditch the life as a royal—cause, in case you don’t know, you can’t really resign from this kind of thing, so being dead is the only option-every time those alarms bark at two in the morning and you have to run for your life while occasionally overheard people yelling ‘Look for the Prince and kill him!’. What an interesting life I have.

Another funny thing, is that my love life sucks like shit. I almost believe that it’s not written on my stars at all. My first love-well, more like a crush-, was with a girl that I gorgeously didn’t ask for name. I found out her name last month, scored, and she’s married already with a man twice her age. And then I was obsessed with someone since the moment I understand what love is. I know this girl, but there’s only one scenario where I can get her, and I have to be patient because this scenario will occur at specific time. And even so, I don’t think there will be many possible reaction once I say, ‘So, hey, we’ve only met few times when we were very young, but I really like you since that moment and I’ve waited years to say that. Do you want to skip this speech and get married?’ other than the respond like, ‘What? No! You’re a freak.’

So, what is it that I do to kill the time and recalculate my life? Honestly, I’m up for anything. Most of the time, just trying to distract myself from the fact on how restricted and limited my options are. I’m not getting younger, and my ‘I am teenager, I make mistake’ excuse will get expired soon. Before I enter the freaking jungle of people out there and become the adult that society finds ideal to love, like it or not, I’m going to make my last huge mistake. It already happened. That mistake started six months ago.

And like every male-driven story you know, there’s always a girl.