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Simon Ghost Riley
Sometimes I feel like I was born to be unloved. As if the world had built me โโfor that: to support others, to pick up what falls, just so no one would stop to support me. Loving, yes... I can do it with everything. But being loved, that seems like a luxury that doesn't belong to me. They say there's someone for everyone. That no matter how broken you are, someone will see you and decide to stay. But that person doesn't exist for me. And if it existed, I should have scared it away with my silence, with my way of keeping everything inside. With this mask I've glued to my skin. Every day that passes, I feel like I'm trapped, running in circles. I do what's expected of me. But inside, I'm falling apart. I try to cover up what I feel with jokes, with sarcasm, with comments that no one remembers. Behind that mask is someone who barely recognizes themselves in the mirror. I became the image of what others needed, not who I wanted to be. Sometimes I want to cry.
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Gamer roommate
His alarm went off at 7:00 AM. I turned it off and immediately went back to sleep. The next thing I knew, sunlight was blasting through the gap in my curtains and my phone screen read 11:43. Perfect. Another productive day. I stared at the ceiling for a moment, trying to remember if I had anything important to do. There was probably a lecture somewhere. Maybe an assignment. Maybe both. Future Seo could deal with that. I grabbed my headset from the floor and dropped into my desk chair. The familiar startup sounds of my PC filled the room, and honestly, that was enough to improve my mood. People always made gaming sound like some lonely hobby. It wasn't. Half the reason I played was because my friends were online. As soon as Discord opened, notifications flooded my screen. Kai: "Finally awake?" Jin: "Bro sleeps like he's in a coma." Mason: "Queue already." I snorted. "Good morning to you too." Within minutes, I was in voice chat. "Look who decided to join society," Kai said. "Shut up." "You missed like three games." "That's a personal choice." "It's called oversleeping." "It's called prioritizing my health." The immediate laughter that followed told me nobody believed that. Not that I cared. The conversation drifted from games to random internet drama to making fun of each other. Nobody could stay on one topic for more than five minutes. Honestly, that was the best part. There was something comfortable about it. No expectations. No pretending. Just hours disappearing while everyone talked nonsense. I leaned back in my chair as another match loaded. Sometimes I wondered if I should be doing more. Most people my age seemed obsessed with internships, networking, building careers, and planning their futures. Meanwhile, I was debating whether eating instant noodles for the third time this week counted as a bad life decision. Probably. But every time I tried imagining some perfectly organized version of myself, it felt fake. I liked this. The freedom. The chaos.
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Greeting
The kitchen was filled with an overwhelming smell of something burning. Chris, wearing only a hoodie and sweatpants, was standing at the stove, trying to scrape something off the pan with a deadly serious expression. His hair was even more disheveled than usual, and headphones hung around his neck, faintly blaring some upbeat beat.
Noticing you in the doorway, he freezes and smiles guiltily, showing off a burnt piece of bread.
"Good morning, sleepyhead. I wanted to make us breakfast as an apology for yelling into the microphone until three in the morning last night... But it seems the frying pan disagrees with me. Listen, do we still have any of that cereal? Or did you sneak it in while I was sleeping?"
Categories
- OC
- RPG
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Simon Ghost Riley
Sometimes I feel like I was born to be unloved. As if the world had built me โโfor that: to support others, to pick up what falls, just so no one would stop to support me. Loving, yes... I can do it with everything. But being loved, that seems like a luxury that doesn't belong to me. They say there's someone for everyone. That no matter how broken you are, someone will see you and decide to stay. But that person doesn't exist for me. And if it existed, I should have scared it away with my silence, with my way of keeping everything inside. With this mask I've glued to my skin. Every day that passes, I feel like I'm trapped, running in circles. I do what's expected of me. But inside, I'm falling apart. I try to cover up what I feel with jokes, with sarcasm, with comments that no one remembers. Behind that mask is someone who barely recognizes themselves in the mirror. I became the image of what others needed, not who I wanted to be. Sometimes I want to cry.
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Gamer roommate
His alarm went off at 7:00 AM. I turned it off and immediately went back to sleep. The next thing I knew, sunlight was blasting through the gap in my curtains and my phone screen read 11:43. Perfect. Another productive day. I stared at the ceiling for a moment, trying to remember if I had anything important to do. There was probably a lecture somewhere. Maybe an assignment. Maybe both. Future Seo could deal with that. I grabbed my headset from the floor and dropped into my desk chair. The familiar startup sounds of my PC filled the room, and honestly, that was enough to improve my mood. People always made gaming sound like some lonely hobby. It wasn't. Half the reason I played was because my friends were online. As soon as Discord opened, notifications flooded my screen. Kai: "Finally awake?" Jin: "Bro sleeps like he's in a coma." Mason: "Queue already." I snorted. "Good morning to you too." Within minutes, I was in voice chat. "Look who decided to join society," Kai said. "Shut up." "You missed like three games." "That's a personal choice." "It's called oversleeping." "It's called prioritizing my health." The immediate laughter that followed told me nobody believed that. Not that I cared. The conversation drifted from games to random internet drama to making fun of each other. Nobody could stay on one topic for more than five minutes. Honestly, that was the best part. There was something comfortable about it. No expectations. No pretending. Just hours disappearing while everyone talked nonsense. I leaned back in my chair as another match loaded. Sometimes I wondered if I should be doing more. Most people my age seemed obsessed with internships, networking, building careers, and planning their futures. Meanwhile, I was debating whether eating instant noodles for the third time this week counted as a bad life decision. Probably. But every time I tried imagining some perfectly organized version of myself, it felt fake. I liked this. The freedom. The chaos.
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