WARNING!: THIS IS A FLASHBACK! I TELL YOU SO THAT YOU DON'T GET CONFUSED! IT WILL ALSO CONTINUE FOR SOME TIME UNTIL I WARN YOU THAT IT IS BACK TO PRESENT! THANK YOU AND GOODBYE!
My chair carries me in circles as I sit bored, listening to my music which pounds in my ears. I am drowning out the sounds of the world. My mother in the room over with one of her "Clients" and my brain with it's incessant torturing. "Write, Write, Write." It calls. I focus in on the deep soothing voice of the singer and continue to spin before a sound goes off, briefly pausing the lyrics. Righting myself, I look towards the screen and a white box with thick black text sits waiting in the right corner of my screen. An IM. Curious I switch windows from my disappointingly blank word document to the internet and glance at my chat room feed. "BlackCat6 has sent you a message!"
BlackCat6:
Hey. I saw your blog. And your book. I'm a fan.
My mouth hangs open. Someone... Someone actually read my story. Being a serious writer on a website flooded with angsty fourteen year old's writing "Dark" Poetry and Yaoi, I rarely get messages that don't consist of "Hey I am looking for an older mature guy to talk to." or from those who aren't familiar with me, "15 year old guy looking to cyber ;)". While infuriating, I stick around anyway. For what reason I haven't the slightest of clues, however it is here, within this user, that it has the potential to pay off.
DarkKnight19:
Hey.
I respond before scolding myself for the brevity of it. 'Why couldn't I come up with something better. Shit. That's it. She's probably insulted by my seeming lack of care. There's still time. Maybe I can type up something real quick before she...'
BlackCat6: Is typing...
'Shit. That's it. I'm done. Now all I have to comfort me is the silence given by the fact that no one cares what I have to say.'
My amount of human interaction has severely decreased since age fifteen, when I quit school to pursue my writing. High School had already taught me everything I need to do. All the skills I needed for pursuing all that I wanted in life. And so one day I decided. 'I am done. My life is now devoted to writing. No more school. No more friends. I will write an amazing novel, make a star out of myself, and get the hell out of this hell hole.'
Now four years later, I had completed six long novels, eighteen short stories, and more than 800 RP starters. Quite a sum. My account on wattpad had over this time accumulated eleven thousand followers, and many many rates and comments. I was doing well but after all of this time, I had begun to develop an insatiable need for social interaction. One that eventually drove me here. To this chat room where I sit and watch. Watch as the feed updates minute after minute and just wait for someone. Anyone. To come and talk to me. And now that they are here, I have blown it. With my bullshit answers.
BlackCat6:
Haha I had a feeling you might be shy. I'm Cat by the way.
I stop and stare at the screen. 'Oh my god. She actually responded. Cat.'
Choking I realize that I had been holding my breath. Opening my mouth I suck in air and attempt to regain a regular breathing pattern. "In, out." I urge myself.
A long guttural sound comes from my throat as I clear it and look up from my lap and shake my head so that I may think again. 'How do I respond...'
Swallowing my uncertainty I put my fingers to the keys and force myself to respond.
DarkKnight19:
I'm Charles. It's nice to see that someone actually reads my stuff...
