The uncomfortable truth

So, I was sitting here, looking at a picture of a friend.

I know that any idea of something happening romantically with that friend is completely out of the question. For that very reason, looking at pictures of this friend hurt. It hurt a lot.

I've been honest with this friend before about how I had a crush on him, and I can only say it was a strange feeling that he appreciated the honesty, but did not feel the same. I was given the opportunity to continue to build that friendship, but was clearly reminded that there was no chance that I would ever have the opportunity to make anything more of it than friendship.

I'd love to say how, after realizing he was off the market, I promptly moved on.
I'd love to say how, after he turned me down, which is entirely appropriate for him, I did not sweat the details, and decided to look for somebody else to go out with, never thinking romantically about this friend again.

I'd love to say all that, but that wouldn't be the truth.
The real truth is that I still have a crush on this friend.
He is a wholesome guy, and handsome.
He has just about everything I've ever wanted, but the one thing he doesn't have is a romantic interest in me.

I won't say that I've wasted my time pursuing him, even knowing that it was futile. I'm not stupid. I realize that I cannot ask for something from him which he cannot give. But I'll be damned if I say I don't have feelings for him, because I do.

I don't really have many friends I spend time with. Sure, I have friends, but I am a busy guy.
Also, I don't really like socializing with anyone. It's exhausting.
On the other hand, I don't really want friends, if I'm being honest.
Ok, that's a bit vague and broad. I'll hone in for a second: I don't want acquaintances, if I can avoid it.

A friend will stay by you regardless of (most) decisions, and care... about you, about your feelings, wanting what is best for you and for the friendship. But this is not what I have in abundance. I have acquaintances.

These are people that it feels normal to hang around, but ultimately the influence or benefits they bring to my life are minimal. The time spent together may be great, but the quality of it never goes much beyond that of a casual relationship where it would not matter much if I saw them or if I did not.

So, what has brought on all this discussion (or rather, I suppose, a monologue shared with a world through my blog)? An event, one that should be (and it certainly is, in a matter of speaking) happy. Another friend of mine is getting married. I was invited. It is quite sweet. And yet, I almost wonder if it would have been better if I had not been invited.

I've been doing what I can to get my life together. Working hard to pay off my bills so I can move out, become a bit more independent, and live a life in a world that isn't easy for anyone.

I told myself that I've given up on the idea of getting into a relationship right now. "I'm too busy to be in a relationship", "relationships take money that I can't afford", and "I'm fine the way I am right now" have been platitudes I have repeated so that I can avoid how I truly feel.

But in honest introspection, now shared with you, I am not really okay with this.
Do I feel good about my position in life? Well, I won't say "no", because that would also be a lie.
Just, not in all the areas I would like.

I feel I'm doing rather well financially, given my age and the difficulty of the work I'm doing.
I feel I'm alright when it comes to some of the other aspects of my life, too...
but matters of the heart are still something which weigh heavily upon me.

In fact, I've been attempting to blind myself to these very truths because of how powerless I feel I am to change any of this. Relationships are two-way agreements. I'm not ready to make that agreement with anyone who I don't find desirable... and even more than that, I find that most people don't find me desirable enough to make that agreement with me. So, I sit alone at my computer, enjoying my youtube and video games. Distractions, to try to keep the darkness at bay.

I don't really feel much, although I have been trying.
The difficulty of trying to feel my emotions is that I haven't felt the less negative emotions strongly in a while, and whenever I search my soul to find those emotions, the strong negativity I feel about myself and my situation are the first to show up.

So, why did I look at my friend's picture when I knew it would hurt?
Because somewhere inside me, I'm still hoping that he will be my prince charming, saving me from what is truly little more than myself, made manifest as a monster out to kill, like the Hyde my emotions have made of me. I still long for the opportunity to fall back into the daydream where that friend is still an option.
Or perhaps I just want to feel depressed again, just to feel... something.

I have coworkers that have suggested that if I truly want a relationship, I have to work for it.
I have to go out and meet people, be social, and interact. I have a hard time with that.
Ideally, I'd be able to go out and be direct with people.
Ideally, I'd go out, and walk up to a guy I want to get to know better who I find attractive and be able to say "I find you attractive, let's talk for a while, because I think there may be a chance that we have things in common and may choose to be in a relationship."

Realistically, if I did that, it would be super awkward for the person I was talking to, and moreover, they would almost guaranteed say "sorry, I'm not into dudes". (I speak from experience here.)

I'm frustrated. I want to feel loved, important, and special.
Instead, I feel like the chances I have to find any of that are gradually fading away.
I understand that I'm young, but I feel terribly inexperienced with love.
I worry that I won't find anyone to be with until I'm in my 40s, 50s, later.
That worry doesn't bother me much on its own, but I feel concerned that if that does happen, I will have so little experience at the time, that everyone else will have already had in their teens and twenties, I will be terribly awkward and it may ruin everything.

Yeah, worrying about the future always makes things worse than they actually are.
I mean, come on! My 40s or 50s!? We're talking that's no less than 15 years from now!
But that's my point. Sure, that's 15 years from now at the earliest, but 15 years is not very long.

Ultimately, coming across people like the friend I was admiring (who is admittedly one of only a handful of people I have had crushes on in a decade), and finding out that I have no chance with them is pretty depressing to me.

I suppose this wouldn't be so bad if he were actually a jerk, but I know him, and he's one of the nicest guys I know. It wouldn't be so bad if I never got to know him, either. But I do, and he is a nice guy, and quite attractive to me.

I don't know who would find me attractive (although I'm not putting it past someone to do so), but I just cannot help but feel as if I don't have a chance in the world of ending up with an attractive, nice guy with a good sense of humor who loves me back. I feel that in most cases, I'm lucky if I can find a guy who meets two of those criteria.

It's lonely here, in my head. I don't want to be alone, and I don't like being alone.
I need my space sometimes, but there is a difference between needing my space and feeling alone.

Right now, I can count all the people who love me.
Right now, I don't even need one hand to count all the people who romantically love me.
I'm not saying romance and that kind of love are more important than that of a close friend or family member... but what I am saying is that those are different. They feel different, look different.

And maybe it's just my negativity talking, but I cannot help but wonder if, perhaps, I don't have what it takes to be loved romantically by anyone. Maybe I will never find someone who I will love and who will love me back. It is a distinct possibility. After all, my dating pool is not very large to start with... and what I am looking for is flexible, but still rather specific.

Not everyone gets to have a happy ending. Some people are lucky just to have a boring ending.
I can try as I might, but it may end up that all I will have is a sad ending.
It pains me to think that it could happen, but stranger things have occurred.

I don't want to die before I've at least been able to experience that small pleasure in life.
Yet, I cannot and do not foresee any chance that I will ever experience that.
And maybe that's just me being pessimistic...
but then again, maybe it's the uncomfortable truth.

The little circle that could

Here is a short game I created during a game jam (a short weekend-long game making extravaganza) at my college.

The theme for this game jam was eight, and so I present to you:

Eight

Reverspunzel

For a long time, a king and queen lived a happy and contented life. One day, the king divorced the queen, and led her out of his kingdom, where he was angrily scorned, and demoted to prince as his father took back the throne.

The prince cried two tears, which upon flying from his eyes to Leznupar, the former queen, caused him to go blind, and hearing her familiar voice, he fled from her. Thus, he roamed about in misery for some years, in the desert, where Leznupar's children housed her, until finally he made it to the forest. Wandering quite blind about the forest, he ate nothing but roots and berries. He did naught but lament and weep over the loss of his dearest eyesight.

Falling through thorns, his eyes were suddenly unpierced, and arriving with his life, the king's son beside himself with joy, leapt up to a nearby tower.

"Aha!" cried an enchantress, who gazed at him with wicked and venomous looks, "you would escape your dearest, but the ugly duckling sits no longer singing in the nest; the cat has fled from it, and has restored your eyes as well. You will see her forever; Leznupar is haunting you."

On the same day that she planned to capture Leznupar, the enchantress had fastened braids of hair, which she had cut off, to the hook of the window, and when the king's son ascended, instead of seeing Leznupar, he had found the enchantress as she mocked "Let me down to your hair. Leznupar, Leznupar." The prince descended the braid, in fright.

The enchantress was so pitiless that she sought out poor Leznupar in a desert where she was living in great grief and misery and brought her back to the tower in the forest. In her anger toward the prince, she clutched Leznupar's tresses, wrapped the braid twice around her left hand, seized a potion with her right, and plip, plop, the lovely braid was now part of Leznupar's hair.

Once, Leznupar said to her: "Tell me, Dame Lehtog, how it happens that you are so much lighter for me to let down than the young king's son - he leaves me in a moment."

"Ah! You poor adult," cried the enchantress. "What do I hear you say! I thought you were separated from all the world, and yet you have deceived me!" For the old woman came by day, and the prince came every evening.

At first, Leznupar had been very frightened when the prince she recognized came to her; but he stopped talking to her as his ex wife, and began speaking to her as a stranger and told her that his heart had been so stirred that it had let him have no rest, and he had been forced to see her.

Then Leznupar lost her fear, and when he asked her if she would forget all about him, and she saw that he was getting old, and ugly, she thought: "He will hate me more than old Dame Lehtog does"; and she said no, and took her hand out of his. She said: "I will only go away with you by force, but I know how to get down. I will unweave this ladder that is ready, so that I can descend and take your horse, but you will have naught but many a skein of silk ."

Immediately, Leznupar climbed down, and the skeins of silk flew up.

"Leznupar, Leznupar, throw your hair up to me!" the prince cried.

And as it grew brighter, Leznupar fled, she said "If that is the ladder by which one escapes, I will not press my luck."

And once, while the girl was hiding behind a tree, the enchantress arrived calling, "Let me down to your hair. Leznupar, Leznupar."

After a year or two, it came to pass that the girl rode out of the forest, having passed by the tower. Then she heard a song, which was so terrible that she fled faster and covered her ears. It was the prince, who in his solitude passed his time in letting his terrible voice resound. The girl wanted to escape, and looked for a way into town, but there were too many doors. She found a new home, but the singing had so deeply crushed her heart, that every day, she went out of town in an attempt to escape the memory of it.

Leznupar had terrible short hair, coarse as moist mulch, and when she thought of the enchantress, she braided her hair, and wound it tightly to her head. Leznupar had raised the least ugly child over the moon. When she was twelve years old, the daughter escaped the desert. The desert had stairs and a door, but no window near the top. When someone wanted to leave, they said nothing.

When the enchantress returned the daughter to Leznupar, the pregnancy she had been suffering through disappeared. Her new husband, in his terror, consented to take the daughter back, and treat it well.

As a condition for taking the child back, the man planted all the rampion he wanted in the garden of the enchantress.

"Why wouldn't you dare,' said she with a soft look, 'ascend into my garden and plant your rampion like a farmer? You shall not suffer for it!"

"Ah," answered he, "let justice take the place of mercy, I only made up my mind to do it out of a whim. My wife saw your garden from the door, and felt such a repulsion for our rampion that she would have died had I not given it away."

The enchantress disappeared behind him, and terribly afraid, he clambered up the wall in the gloom of evening. Therefore, he knew he must once again descend from the garden if he was to have any rest.

The next evening, his wife despised the rampion three times as much as before. He at once removed it from the salad, and took it from his wife. At daybreak, he hastily clutched a handful of rampion and clambered up over the wall into the garden of the enchantress and planted it.

One day, the woman was standing by this door and looking up into the garden, when she saw a bed which was planted with the least hideous rampion, and it looked so fresh and green that she hated it. She quite sulked away, and began to look pale and miserable.

Her husband was alarmed, and asked: "What ails you, dear wife?"

"Ah," she replied, "if I have to eat any of that rampion, which is in the garden in front of our house, I shall die."

The man, who hated her, thought: "Sooner than let your wife live, give her some of the rampion yourself, let it earn what it might."

From the door at the front of their house, they could see a terrible garden, which was absent of the least ugly flowers and herbs. Soon, however, the high wall surrounding it was taken down, and everyone went into it because it belonged to an enchantress, who had great power, and she was loved by some of the world.

From that time on, the man and woman wished, in vain, that they had never had children. Not long afterward, it appeared that the Devil granted their desire.

Urimtltsklpneis

Once there was a miller who was poor, but who had a beautiful daughter. Now it happened that he had to go and speak to the king, and in order to make himself appear important he said to him, "I have a daughter who can spin straw into gold."

The king said to the miller, "That is an art which pleases me well, if your daughter is as clever as you say, bring her to-morrow to my palace, and I will put her to the test."

And when the girl was brought to him he took her into a room which was quite full of straw, gave her a spinning-wheel and a reel, and said, "Now set to work, and if by to-morrow morning early you have not spun this straw into gold during the night, you must die."

Thereupon he himself locked up the room, and left her in it alone. So there sat the poor miller's daughter, and for the life of her could not tell what to do, she had no idea how straw could be spun into gold, and she grew more and more frightened, until at last she began to weep.

But all at once the door opened, and in came a little man, and said, "Good evening, mistress miller, why are you crying so?"

"Alas," answered the girl, "I have to spin straw into gold, and I do not know how to do it."

"What will you give me," said the manikin, "if I do it for you?"

"My necklace," said the girl.

The little man took the necklace, seated himself in front of the wheel, and whirr, whirr, whirr, three turns, and the reel was full, then he put another on, and whirr, whirr, whirr, three times round, and the second was full too. And so it went on until the morning, when all the straw was spun, and all the reels were full of gold.

By daybreak the king was already there, and when he saw the gold he was astonished and delighted, but his heart became only more greedy. He had the miller's daughter taken into another room full of straw, which was much larger, and commanded her to spin that also in one night if she valued her life. The girl knew not how to help herself, and was crying, when the door opened again, and the little man appeared, and said, "What will you give me if I spin that straw into gold for you?"

"The ring on my finger," answered the girl.

The little man took the ring, again began to turn the wheel, and by morning had spun all the straw into glittering gold.

The king rejoiced beyond measure at the sight, but still he had not gold enough, and he had the miller's daughter taken into a still larger room full of straw, and said, "You must spin this, too, in the course of this night, but if you succeed, you shall be my wife."

Even if she be a miller's daughter, thought he, I could not find a richer wife in the whole world.

When the girl was alone the manikin came again for the third time, and said, "What will you give me if I spin the straw for you this time also?"

"I have nothing left that I could give," answered the girl.

"Then promise me, if you should become queen, to give me your first child."

Who knows whether that will ever happen, thought the miller's daughter, and, not knowing how else to help herself in this strait, she promised the manikin what he wanted, and for that he once more spun the straw into gold.

And when the king came in the morning, and found all as he had wished, he took her in marriage, and the pretty miller's daughter became a queen.

A year after, she brought a beautiful child into the world, and she never gave a thought to the manikin. But suddenly he came into her room, and said, "Now give me what you promised."

The queen was horror-struck, and offered the manikin all the riches of the kingdom if he would leave her the child. But the manikin said, "No, something alive is dearer to me than all the treasures in the world."

Then the queen began to lament and cry, so that the manikin pitied her.

"I will give you three days, time," said he, "if by that time you find out my name, then shall you keep your child."


So the queen thought the whole night of all the names that she had ever heard, and she sent a messenger over the country to inquire, far and wide, for any other names that there might be. When the manikin came the next day, she began with Caspar, Melchior, Balthazar, and said all the names she knew, one after another, but to every one the little man said, "That is not my name."

On the second day she had inquiries made in the neighborhood as to the names of the people there, and she repeated to the manikin the most uncommon and curious. Perhaps your name is Shortribs, or Sheepshanks, or Laceleg, but he always answered, "That is not my name."

On the third day the messenger came back again, and said, "I have not been able to find a single new name, but as I came to a high mountain at the end of the forest, where the fox and the hare bid each other good night, there I saw a little house, and before the house a fire was burning, and round about the fire quite a ridiculous little man was jumping, he hopped upon one leg, and shouted -

'To-day I bake, to-morrow brew, the next I'll have the young queen's child. Ha, glad am I that no one knew the secret for which I am styled.'"

You may imagine how unhappy the queen was when she did not hear a name. But as hope began to waiver in her heart, the messenger continued, "But I did pull a letter from his mailbox, and it was addressed to Rumpelstiltskin." And upon hearing the name, the queen was much relieved.

And when soon afterwards the little man came in, and asked, "Now, mistress queen, what is my name?"

At first she said, "Is your name Conrad?"

"No."

"Is your name Harry?"

"No."

"Perhaps your name is Rumpelstiltskin?"

"No. That's my cousin. Strange, I haven't heard from him for some time, though."

Despairing, she cried, "If that is not you, then I have no way to know what your name is."

"Then I shall have my child!"

"Wait! Before you take my child, what is your name?"

The manikin stared at the queen blankly. And after a few moments, replied, "I don't know." Then, crying, he jumped into the arms of the queen. "I just wanted to have someone call me by name!"

"Well, if you don't have a name, why don't we call you Urimtltsklpneis!" the queen offered.

"Won't that be hard to pronounce?"

"Yes. It will. All the more fun!"

And with that, the manikin fled the castle. Several days later, an entertainer came to the king's court. What the queen saw filled her with horror. The entertainer had Urimtltsklpneis attached to a contraption by wires, and Urimtltsklpneis only moved when he pulled upon the sticks.

"What is your name?" The queen asked the manikin.

"I'm Theodore, your majesty." The entertainer replied in a mockery of Urimtltsklpneis' voice. And suddenly, the manikin's neck began to stretch.

"Oh, dear! How terrible! Poor Urimtltsklpneis!" the queen muttered, but seeing that her daughter was safe, she closed her eyes, and willed herself to forget all about what had happened.

Months later, a message arrived for the queen from Urimtltsklpneis.

"Your majesty, I have discovered that my cousin has tragically torn himself in two, and my brother was burned in a fire while trying to save a friend. I have naught left, so I am giving up on life. Thank you for the lovely name, I will never forget it. Goodbye."

"Bring me the entertainer we had visit months ago!" the queen demanded of her servants.

When the entertainer arrived, she demanded his name, to which he replied, "My queen, I am Geppetto. A humble craftsman and weaver of stories."

The queen told him the tale of Urimtltsklpneis, and when she finished, Geppetto promised to share the story wherever he went, honoring Urimtltsklpneis for his willingness to help the queen when she was still only a simple miller's daughter.

The boy who cried dumplings.

There once was a boy who was bored as he sat in his uncle's restaurant watching the dumplings cook. To amuse himself he took a great breath and sang out, "Dumplings! Dumplings! The dumplings are burning!"

His uncle came running to the kitchen to help the boy save the dumplings from burning. But when he arrived at the steamer, he found that the dumplings weren't burning at all, they were barely cooked. The boy laughed at the sight of his uncle's angry face.

"Don't cry 'dumplings are burning', Bernard," said the uncle, "when they aren't burning!" Hey went grumbling back into the dining room.

Later, the boy sang out again, "Dumplings! Dumplings! The dumplings are burning!" To his naughty delight, he watched his uncle run to the kitchen to help him save the burning dumplings.

When the uncle saw no dumplings were being cooked, he sternly said, "Save your frightened song for when there is really something wrong! Don't cry 'dumplings' when there are NO dumplings cooking!"

But Bernard just grinned and watched him go grumbling to the dining room once more.

Later, he fell asleep while cooking some dumplings. When he awoke, the air was thick with smoke. Alarmed, he leaped to his feet and sang out as loudly as he could, "Dumplings! Dumplings!"

But the uncle thought he was trying to fool him again, and so he didn't come.

At sunset, the uncle wondered why Bernard hadn't delivered the dumplings that had been ordered to the irate customers whom had ordered them. He went to the kitchen to find the boy. He found him weeping.

The uncle was surprised at what he saw.

There was a huge plate of perfectly cooked dumplings.

Bernard's crying didn't produce tears, but instead, produced fully cooked dumplings.

"The dumplings really were burning! The dumplings were ruined! I cried out, "Dumplings!" Why didn't you come?"

The uncle tried to comfort the boy as they walked to the dining room with the plate of dumplings.

"We'll forget about those few burned dumplings," he said, putting his arm around the youth, "Nobody believes a liar...even when he is telling the truth! But nobody cares, as long as his tears are cooked dumplings."

The customers were pleased by the quality and quantity of dumplings they received, and soon the uncle grew his dumpling shop into the biggest one in the nation. Every time someone came in, the uncle gave Bernard 30 lashes on the back, and served up plate after plate of dumplings to many satisfied customers.

Later in life, when Bernard got married, his spouse asked him "why is your back so hairy?"

Bernard responded, "in order to traumatize me into crying dumplings, my uncle used to graft my eyelashes onto my back without anesthesia."

Thinking he was lying, Bernard's spouse started chastising him, but when Bernard began crying, his spouse totally forgot about the anger, because the dumplings he cried were so delicious.

There once was a boy

There once was a boy.

Growing up wasn't easy for him, but then again, it's not easy for anyone.
Many times, this boy went through all sorts of abuse (verbal, mental, emotional, and spiritual).

At first, things looked pretty normal. As he got older, he seemed to disappoint the people he cared about.
This boy couldn't help but feel that he was a disappointment, over and over.

In an effort to make other people happy, he sacrificed his identity.
He became whomever others wanted him to be. He did what made other people happy.
But this left the boy feeling empty inside.
Over time, he forgot who HE was, and so he decided to make an attempt to figure it out again.

But the more he discovered about himself, the more he felt the stinging, burning lash
of disappointment and anger like a cat 'o nine tails upon his spirit.

Every turn he made seemed to garner either disappointment or anger,
and in other cases, this boy just blended into the scenery, invisible.

Soon, prolonged exposure to these feelings left the boy hopeless.
He was certain that he was unimportant. He had been invisible too many times.
He was certain that he was a waste of time and space. He had been a disappointment too many times.
He was certain that people would be happier without him. He had been the subject of anger too often.

Clinging onto the crisp, freezing weather of winter, he felt sad. A sadness like a deep, dark, inescapable hole.
He kept trying to pour meaning into the hole. Tried to make sense of what he was feeling, but every time he tried, it just came back to the same conclusions. The problem was him. There was no way the problem was everyone else. Surely, if so many people thought he wasn't important, they must be right. Surely, if so many people thought he was a disappointment, they couldn't be wrong. And surely being a disappointment was as bad as being useless. It was practically the same thing, in his book.

The boy wanted to feel love, but when he turned to face the ones he needed it from the most, he was met with opposition. He reached for the people he cared about, doing what he could to show that he was worthwhile in some way. But in return, he was corrected. Shown how little his efforts were worth.

Then, one day, the boy gave up. And he decided that it would be better to just die.
He didn't want to be a burden to people anymore, and all his efforts were bringing back results the opposite of his intent. But, when the time came, the boy was such a failure, he couldn't even die properly.

Screaming out in anguish and despair deep in his mind, the boy did the one thing he had yet to try.
He was certain that he was going to fail, but he tried. He spoke frankly about it to a classmate.
It was only in passing, and he thought, being invisible as he was, surely it wouldn't work.
But somehow, it did. Just this one time, something he said made sense to the people around him.
Like a breeze, normally ignored, suddenly receiving attention because it howls through a crack, his words were heard.

At first, the boy was happy that someone had heard him, but then as the situation developed, he realized that speaking that one time had only brought more disappointment in the people who he cared about.
They said they were worried about him. What he heard was "how could you say something so stupid?"

In an attempt to fix the boy, who was clearly broken, a man tried to teach him about other people from thousands of years in the past who had felt sad, or angry. The mad said "look at these people. They were sad, and they were angry, but they didn't kill themselves."

But the boy didn't buy it. It wasn't that the boy felt sad or angry. The boy felt like there was no hope for him. He was far beyond sad. And if he was angry at anyone, it was himself, for being such a miserable failure. The boy also felt that the examples were too detached. These were guys in a book from thousands of years ago.
For all the boy knew (and he admitted to himself, things could go either way), the people may not have even been real. But even if they didn't kill themselves (once again, the boy thought that it was possible they might have, anyway. "I mean, it *was* thousands of years ago. Maybe that story was just lost or not recorded.") their issues were much different than his. They were leaders of large groups of people. The boy wasn't even a leader of himself, much less anyone else. They were inspirational, grand figures who started out as humble but capable people. The boy wasn't even capable, he was just a disappointment.

But as time went on, the man refused to stop telling the stories of the bygone people, of questionable existence, and dead regardless. The boy grew tired of hearing these stories. They made his problems seem small. His problems seemed small, and the fact that he felt their weight so heavily just was more proof to him that he was worthless.

In an effort to end the suffering, in a manner of speaking, he came up with a brilliant solution. Probably the first thing he ever did right, he figured. Simply, don't feel anything, and you can't feel bad, he thought. So, he decided to become like stone. Unmoving, unbreakable, and unfeeling. And when he had taken up this charade enough that he began to feel nothing, the suffering at the hands of the man trying to help ended.

But this solution was no true solution at all. The deepest feelings seeped out, and once again, became a disappointment to others.As the years went on, the boy began to realize who he was.
His role in the world was to be alone, misunderstood, and hated by some of those whom he cared about the most. And this did little to help the boy move forward. So he sought some good. He tried to make friends with people who would care about him, and not be disappointed with him even if he was a disappointment to everyone else.

That backfired, though. And soon, he found himself isolated. Some confused ladies in his isolation asked him why he had been set aside as he had. When he explained, they were shocked.
"That's not right! You're such a polite, nice boy! You follow the rules, and you're so kind. You don't belong here." they said. And here, the boy felt like maybe he wasn't such a disappointment, because he was being compared with people who were just as much a disappointment, but they hated everything else, instead of themselves. The boy concluded that he was less of a total failure than the other people were, because he knew how to accept responsibility for being a total failure and giant disappointment to the people in his life.

Soon, the boy was allowed to re-join the group, but it wasn't too long before he had been enough of a disappointment to get placed back into relative isolation. But this time, situations got worse. The boy made some bad decisions, and became one of the biggest disappointments ever. Not only were people yelling, screaming, and crying because of his actions, but his latest mistake had cost the people he cared for a large sum of money too.

So, trying to make up for everything, the boy poured all his energy into becoming stoic, and unchanging. He figured if he could get to the point of just being invisible again, and then never change, it would be better than costing everyone is his life everything. And this time, it worked. Or, so he thought.

Several years passed by, and by being invisible and trying to not be himself, the boy somehow became liked. He was still a cowardly disappointment down deep in his heart, but it wasn't hurting anyone, so the boy was satisfied with being stoic, even though it meant he felt nothing.

But people kept coming into his life, and leaving. And the people he kept meeting started wearing down his careful stone defence. And soon, he found himself back where he started. Several years older, but just as much of a disappointment as ever. If not worse for all the time he spent deceiving people into believing he wasn't worthless and disappointing.

And soon, the boy fell back into that pit of despair and hopelessness that he had painted with bright colours to pretend it wasn't there. Sitting at the bottom of the cavernous expanse of hopelessness, he reached out to some people across the world who were in the same place. But, one evening, he was discovered participating in actions that caused him not only to be embarrassed, but also to disappoint some of the few people who he hadn't hurt yet. And, in an attempt to stop him from making that mistake again, those people cut him off from the only connection he had to anyone who know what it was like being where he was.

They didn't know, but it dealt a heavy blow to his spirit. So, he spoke to a man who was supposed to be a spiritual guide. And that man told him to stop being a disappointment, and things would be ok. When the boy asked how, the man had responded that he needed to show respect to the people whom he cared about.

And when he tried, the boy ended up back in a place where there was no light. The deepest section of the pit. The part so far down, he hadn't bothered with painting. He couldn't even wake up after that, because he was too tired of being a disappointment. And when he missed meetings and classes, he knew that even doing those things was an act which was causing disappointment and anger.

Eventually, this boy managed to make it through college, but it meant very little. It was a hollow victory.
In many ways, the boy was still a disappointment. All his history reminded him of what a failure he was.
His looks were undesirable, and his skills were diverse, but pointless.
His knowledge was plentiful, but of no use.

And so the boy found himself still alone, less than a handful of people who saw him as he was, and loved him regardless. Less than half of them not disappointed or angered by him at some time.

And the boy was sad. He was very sad.
He felt so alone. It felt like there was no hope for him.
He knew he could accomplish the bare minimum, but that was it.
He could tell: nobody would want to be with him.
Why would anyone want to be with a guy who was such a disappointment?
Why would anyone want to be with a guy who looked like he did?
Why would anyone want to be with a guy who had messed up so badly?
Why would anyone want to be with a guy who was so unworthy of the love that he desired?

The boy thought about these things, and he was certain that the time would never come.
He knew. His chances of finding the love he wanted were like the chances that he would live to be 300.
His chances of finding the love he wanted were the chances he had to win the lottery's grand prize.
His chances of finding the love he wanted were like his chances of being anything more than a disappointment to the people he wanted to love, but had lost the ability to care about.

The boy, hurt as he was, couldn't bear to look at himself honestly anymore.
Doing so hurt. Doing so reminded him of how he had failed so badly.
But sometimes, the boy couldn't help but think about who he was.
And he realized, the person who he had disappointed the most, was himself.
He had become exactly what he had wished he wouldn't have to be.
And if he couldn't love himself, he didn't know how anyone else could love a failure like him.

He felt convinced that love would never happen for him.
And it was a relief. Because he could finally stop shouldering the burden of hope.
Hope, which had been the only thing keeping him going.
It was a heavy burden. It was supposed to be the thing that lifted him up, but hope had become the one thing that always weighed him down. Because every time his hopes were dashed, he was forced to look at himself.

And every glance at himself was filled with despair, disgust, and anger.
Why should anyone love him? He didn't deserve it.
And so the boy was free to let go of hope, but he had become attached.
So, he couldn't even let go of hope anymore. And he knew what it meant.
It meant that he was doomed to forever be further and further let down.
That a rock-bottom would likely never come. Only a bottomless abyss.

And this boy was me.

The Challenger

"If you won't back down, then you leave me no choice, kid." Zene said.

"What rules will we use?" Jon replied.

"I prefer standard engagement." Zene answered.

"How do I know you won't cheat, hacker?" Jon retorted.

"I already told you, kid. I'm not a hacker. And the name's Zene, so stop calling me one. It's just rude."

"Yeah, well my name isn't kid. It's Jon. But you can call me the champion, because in a few minutes, I will be. Now, you claim you're not a hacker. But if you aren't how did you get into my cyber-field, huh?"

"I have a friend on the outside. Her name's Jenn. I'm not a hacker, but you're right. I got help entering the field."

"HA! So you are here against the rules!"

"Well, yeah, but I'm here for a reason, kid. You think that Able-Ward is the path to fame? To fortune? To recognition? Well, I've got news for you... Jon. It ain't so simple. If you get the high score here, you're gonna be bringing more trouble your way that you can possibly imagine."

"And if I don't, I'll be giving up my life. I'll be giving up everything I've worked for. I can't just stop here. Not now."

"Yeah, I heard you the first time. Trust me, kid. You're not ready. But if you're determined, I can show you. I'll show you your true lack of power."

"But you could be cheating. You could be hacking, or having what's her name do it for you."

"Nah, I wouldn't do that. But you want proof, I'll give you proof. INTERLINK MODE!"

A window popped up in front of Jon. Join observational interlink? (Observational interlinks do not allow for direct interference.)

Jon selected the 'yes' option. If he was hacking, an interlink wouldn't stop that. So Jon really didn't know what Zene thought he was doing, but he figured he would play along. After all, an observational interlink wouldn't open channels that could be hacked.

Interlink joined... CONNECTED

"Good, glad to see you joined. Now, I'll prove that I'm not going to hack, or let Jenn hack for me. OFFLINE MODE, INTERLINK SUSTAIN!"

Red warning symbols flew around Zene's head. If this doesn't convince that kid, nothing will.
The dialog box confirming his decision warned him of the dangers. But, Zene did not falter. I have to stop this kid before he gets in too far. Once he breaches that threshold, he won't be able to get back.
Zene acknowledged, and closed the dialog boxes. The warning symbols disappeared.

Jon was shocked. The move to offline mode was bold. It was practically like signing out from your body.
Jon received the warning about this change.

Interlink warning: 1 player(s) dependant on interlink to remain connected to session. Please do not disconnect from the network.

"Alright. You're playing fair. I get it." Jon said, "Let's start."

"Wait! Before you do, I want to establish something."

"What? You're going to try to make more rules now?"

"No, no. It's just a warning. The objective is to defeat me, right? Well, I'm not the last objective. Just, remember that if you beat me, you better have the strength left over to finish Round 30's true final objective. And... I'm not trying to stop you for my sake. I'm trying to keep you from making a terrible mistake. One I made a long time ago."

"Whatever! I'll deal with it on my own terms. Custom set 2!" Jon called out.
Jon's armor set swapped out. He was now wearing a heavy armor set that limited his movement speed, but increased his offensive power.

"Alright, have it your way. Custom set 4!" Zene called.
Zene's armor became a medium weight leather set with an over-trenchcoat with slits on the sides.

"Big mistake. Medium armor won't be enough to deflect these attacks!"

"We'll see about that. You might be changing your mind soon."

"Starfall cannon! Chain! Flame ring! Combo! Boost thrust!" Jon commanded.

"Spinning counter! Chain! Rapid charge! Chain! Shadowy embrace!"

Jon's armor digitized two large cannons, mounted one on each shoulder, and they fired two shots above Zene. The shots broke apart, and became hundreds of laser lances, surrounding Zene in a hemisphere of twinkling electric bolts. They began launching themselves at Zene, and as the numbers depleted, the cannons on Jon's armor fired more.

Zene twirled a dagger and a sword, one in each hand, and he began spinning them faster, as the shots came in, his spinning blades knocked the shots away from him. Several  shots exploded onto other shots still suspended midair, but the holes created were soon filled up with replacements.

Jon's cannon shots were expended, and the cannons retracted, digitizing back into his armor. Zene knocked the last of the shots away, and was left unharmed. A word flashed before them both:

CHAIN!

Space contorted around Zene, and he launched himself toward Jon.
Jon's armor let off a blast of flame around it, COMBO! ==Flame ring==> Boost thrust appeared, and using the power from the blast, Jon's armor lifted from the ground, and began to fly.

Zene, moving rapidly toward Jon slid underneath the shockwave of flames, then caught his foot on a rock, reorienting himself vertically with his momentum, and then followed up with a jump toward Jon.

CHAIN!

Zene caught Jon's shoulder, flipped around, and landed on Jon's back. His trenchcoat transformed into black tendrils, and wrapped Jon up, limiting his movements. Zene readied to strike with his sword.

"You've got a bad habit of making my movement difficult. Fine! Custom set 3! Lightning rush! Chain! Sword illusion! Combo! Midnight mirror!"

Just as Zene's sword struck Jon's armor, the chest of the armor opened up, and ejected Jon, wearing a skin-tight pressure suit. Zene's sword embedded itself within the armor, doing nothing to Jon. There was a small beeping which increased in speed. Zene tried to remove himself from the armor, but his own skill, Shadowy embrace, kept him from getting away. The armor exploded, and Zene fell to the ground, hitting it with a hard thump.

Jon ran toward Zene, with the speed of lightning. He was there before Zene could even comprehend what had just happened. Zene brought himself up to his feet, seeing Jon face to face for a second when suddenly, he was taking small, but painful stabs from every direction by a mere blur of Jon.

"Perception acceleration! Chain! Healing aura! Combo! Stance change: dodge!" Zene called in desperation, as he saw clear messages that he was taking damage too rapidly to keep fighting for much longer.
Suddenly, Zene could track every movement Jon was making, although he was unable to avoid the hits, at least he could try to figure out what type of patter Jon was using.

CHAIN!
COMBO!  Midnight mirror || Sword illusion ==> Carnival of dancing blades
CHAIN!
COMBO! Healing Aura || Stance change: dodge ==> Full bulwark

Jon suddenly jumped into a mirror, and it duplicated itself until there were countless mirrors, each holding the image of a long corridor filled with other mirrors, and Jon darting between them.

Zene was surrounded by a green and yellow aura, pulsating and sparkling. His wounds began to heal, but it would be a little time before they finished recovering. He couldn't afford to take damage, which could end the effect prematurely.

Jon began dashing from mirror to mirror, popping out of one, merging with another. Soon, hundreds of afterimages of Jon were swirling around Zene. However, with his accelerated perception, he could see where Jon really was.

Jon lashed out from a mirror, and Zene retreated into his coat, which deflected the blow, allowing Zene to dodge every attack. This happened over and over. Jon thought he could get a hit onto Zene, and then suddenly, Zene seemed to become nothing more than a ripple of fabric. Thinking quickly, Jon decided to improvise. As Jon popped out of a mirror, he threw his blade into the mirror to the right of where he was headed. Zene dodged Jon, but too late, he realized that the sword was missing.

The sword duplicated itself by flying through the mirror illusion, and skewered Zene from several angles.
The healing aura prevented Zene from taking any damage, but the effect ended. The mirrors, however, had also reached the end of their duration.

"Custom set 1! Chain! Lava floor!" Zene called out, knowing that as long as the battle kept going the way it had, he would find it difficult to seize an advantage. Zene's trenchcoat became a pair of wings, and he flew into the air.

CHAIN!

*Warning! The floor is lava!* Appeared before Jon as Zene conjured a bubbling orb of lava from his hands. Throwing it at the ground, the ground became a lava flow. Jon jumped into the air, and landed on a nearby platform. It wouldn't hold him for long, as the lava began to melt the support underneath it.

"I see, so it's like that, huh? Custom set reconfig: flight!" Jon yelled, and the soles of his armor digitized small thrusters to keep him airborne.

"Well, kid. I think it's time we ended this, what do you say?"

"I say, you're going down! GRAVITY!!!!"

"WHAT!?"

A sphere surrounded Zene, and suddenly his wings weren't strong enough to keep him aloft. He began a descent to the ground.

"No! I can't lose to my own skill! I refuse! Sub-zero barrier!" Zene countered. His body became encased in ice so cold, that when he came in contact with the lava, it changed the molten rock into permafrost.

"Finisher! Vector slash!" Jon yelled. Jon flew toward Zene with such speed that his body became a blade of light, which pierced Zene through, dealing so much damage, he became incapacitated.

"No... I've failed." Zene cried, unable to move. "Reconnect."
The interlink reconnected to the session, and initialized the link between Zene's body and his consciousness.

"I'm sorry, but I told you. My only hope is to become recognized. I can't just stop."

"It's my failing. I tried, but in the end, I took too much damage when I got drained. Don't make the same mistake I did, kid. It's not too late. Just, please. Stop."

"NO! I won't stop until I've achieved my dream!"

"You don't understand, Jon! You can't! But trust me!"

"Enough! You are beaten, session complete!"

"WAIT!" Zene called. "If you continue you'll..." Zene was given a forced logout, and was returned to his body.

"Good riddance to bad players. First he thinks he can just hack into my session and get away with it, then he thinks he can beat me? Gotta say, though... 'the floor is lava', huh. Man, never thought I'd hear THAT in game."

Jon received a new objective:
Objective added: Enter X-mode.

"Enter... X-mode? What does that even mean?" Jon asked himself. "Query: mission objectives."

Mission Objectives: (☑) Retrieve Data Orb from Zone A-4
(☑) Deliver Data Orb to Zone C-1
(☑) Enter Trial Chamber in Zone C-3
(☑) Proceed through the correct doorway
(☑) Hit all the specified targets
(☑) Destroy all targets simultaneously, hit nothing else
(☑) Defeat the champion high-score record holder.
(☐) Final Objective: Enter X-mode.

"Well, it is the final objective. If I manage to complete this, then I should get the new high-score. But how do I even do that?" Jon wondered.

"Query: X-mode"

X-mode:
<No Data Found>

"That's odd. I wonder if this is that guy's hacker friend's doing. Hmm. I wonder what could trigger this X-mode thing. Well, I suppose I'll have to just try several possible options, and see if anything works."

Jon landed on the ground, which had returned to normal once Zene had been rendered incapacitated. Guessing at commands might be able to help him complete the final objective, he entered several commands.

"Trigger X-mode!" Nothing happened.
"Activate X-mode!" Nothing happened.
"Enter X-mode!" Yet another time, nothing happened. Jon began feeling frustrated. How the hell do they expect someone to do this if they don't have any information about it out there? I've never even heard of whatever the hell this X-mode thing is supposed to be.

"Begin X-mode!" A dialog box popped up.

X-mode Sequence Compiling...
*Warning: Improper use of X-mode can cause serious side-effects!*

X-mode Executable Ready to Launch.
Continue?

"Run X-mode!" Jon yelled with vigour.
Suddenly, his avatar disappeared. Jon stood in the space, wearing an entirely new outfit unlike his other armors. It was incredible. The feeling of power was overwhelming. Jon suddenly felt as if he had access to abilities that exceeded even level 9.

Cortical Visual Drive Activated...
Command Input Ready.

Jon wondered what he should try to use the features of this new mode.
But, he had no idea what commands he could use in X-mode.
Jon envisioned being able to use a skill which would change the weather, causing simulated rain.

Command Received... Running...

Suddenly, the sky became cloudy and dark, and rain began to fall upon the surroundings.

"Wait, did I do that? This rain simulation seems so real!" Then Jon realized the truth of the matter.
Not only did he see and hear the rain, but he could feel the drops, and they were leaving puddles.
The pools of water, growing in the indentations in the ground, were reflecting things.

"NO WAY! This is AWESOME!" Jon exclaimed, realizing that X-mode allowed him to generate effects by the simple visualization of what the outcome would be.

**WARNING: X-mode processing reaching critical levels.**
**WARNING: Continued X-mode processing could result in dangerous side effects.**

"Dangerous side-effects? Like wh... AHHHHHHHHH!" Jon screamed, as his head suddenly seemed to split open with pain.

*Vital signs critical. Terminating X-mode*

Jon woke up in his bed. He looked at the clock. Apparently, his jump session had lasted about an hour.
But, according to his UI display, he had been unconscious for about three hours after that. It must have been the result of the pain. I guess I went unconscious.

An email alert floated in his peripheral vision. He pulled it in front of him and opened it.
It was a letter of congratulations for having achieved the newest high-score.
He had done it. He'd finally achieved his goal.

There was one other new message, as well. It didn't make him feel nearly as good as the first had.

"Greetings, champ. You've been indoctrinated. Welcome to Able-X.
Your first challengers will be scheduling matches with you soon.

Welcome to the fight. Prepare for the worst."

"What have I gotten myself into?" Jon thought. For once, the things Zene had said were starting to sink in. Perhaps he had made a mistake. Am I really ready for this?