Wingman ⌠Cell Phone Novel⌡

journal

(Written by Sakai Keichi) - date: unknown

For two years, I had been alone. I ate alone under the zelkova tree in the front courtyard of the school. I went from class to class unable to understand how others created relationships. I'd get glances from other students. Small whispers, giggling. No one waited for me after the last homeroom.

It was then that I realized why people sought relationships so desperately. Why social status equaled self-worth. The way people changed their true selves to fit in. It all became meaningless to me as I spent every walking hour, alone.

Something changed inside me. I knew I couldn't go back to the old way of doing things.

When I looked at the cliques at school, all I could see were relationships that were dependent on the notion of change. Hanging out was fine, but they weren't real friends. Not confiding in each other with their deepest thoughts. It seemed as if everyone willingly played along with the facade, just to avoid being alone. Everyone, struggling to enjoy their superficial relationships with each other. Once again, dependent on unspoken agreement for perpetual blindness from reality. If someone changed. If something changed. That fragile charade fell apart. That's why, I saw everyone lie to keep it all together. And I realized I didn't want this anymore. I yearned for something else. I wanted something real.

I wanted something genuine.

But does something genuine even exist?

Superficial. Genuine. What does that even mean? To a certain degree, everyone wears a mask over their true feelings. We suppress what we really are to conform to others' beliefs of what we should be. We force our own ideals onto others just as they do to us. We are all hypocrites, because we are all so terrified, so insecure, that if our horrible selves are to be shown plain, we would be hated. And we are correct to think so. Which is why something genuine can never exist.

But why... Why did the tiniest shard of hope still pierce through my heart sometimes?

It was humid and the windows were all fogged up. The small (stolen) heater in the corner was barely running, sputtering its dying few breaths. The chairs were cold and hard. The floor was sticky to the touch. The three of us were all hungry and tired and Takeshi and I still had bruises and cuts all over our faces and bodies, but Ai laughed at his black eye like an idiot, until we almost got caught by the vice-principal. The clubroom smelled like mold and dusty books and rain. 

But it was here, that I felt that maybe, it was possible for something genuine to take shape. 

Is it so wrong to wish for something so universally sought for?

***

Eventually, the rain clouds parted and a brilliant blue painted the sky, wisps of clouds floating like stretched balls of cotton. 

And I wanted for us to be genuine.

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(A/N: I realize this chapter does not follow the rules of a Cell Phone Novel. But I wish for this to appear in my story. Following the rules hasn't always been my strong suit to begin with. Think of this as an "extra" to the CPN Wingman. It just helps the reader understand more of what Keichi is thinking, in a way that doesn't affect the plot at all. And it's something important to Keichi and me. I believe it has an effective place in this story. Even though I know that  my piece could possibly not qualify as a Cell Phone Novel anymore, I hope I can keep my readers and supporters. Thanks to you all, and please comment on what you think of current developments, feedback, or criticism! I'm working on my commitment to write this to the ending.)