I laughed unreserved. I laughed like there's no tomorrow. I laughed out nothing except confusion.

I didn't why. I remembered my father slapping me for laughing uncontrollably out of mania. I couldn't feel anything the days after that. It was disturbing.

I would see the house I lived in with wooden humanoids replacing my family members. They were them, but lifeless. I saw an undefined power that controlled everyone, including me. I had wooden arms when I looked, and every moment we made was due to that divine essense controlling us. It felt weird. I couldn't feel anything.

I didn't like this. I didn't know. I feel safe but undefined. This wasn't right, but maybe I needed this?

I needed my doctor. She told me it was normal. I didn't understand. Maybe it was just me? I wished I understood. I wished I knew.

I didn't like being touched. I didn't like being touched by anyone. It felt weird. I thought I was paranoid.

Where was I?

I needed to do something.

"Where am I?! Really! I'm serious! Answer me!"

"You're nothing. Just kill yourself."

"Shut up! You know nothing."

"Nothing? You mean I know you're nothing? You're useless! You piece of s—"

"Shut up! Keep quiet!"

"Hmph. Just know you can't do anything right. That's all you need to know."

Oh gosh, I really needed to write. Couldn't have myself wasting time this time around.

My head hurt. "Let's just close our eyes this very moment."

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

Oh g—

Where was I!?

I needed to finish up this nonsense. Couldn't do this no more.

I listened to someone laughing uncontrollably on repeat to calm myself down.

After that, I listened to an alternative rock song that came out recently. It was a song that premiered on the video-sharing website. Not bad, I thought.

Listening to my favorite hiphop artist was natural after the number of times I've replayed his albums. He was honest about his hopelessness. Music like his healed me.

Back to work. It'd be really nice if I ate grapes by now after all the apples I've eaten.

I changed desks often and moved positions to a different side of the house. I couldn't do this in that apartment before, but now I could. I did this whenever my senses got tired of the environment. It was pretty much a lifesaver in reseting your creative processing.

I would imagine it like four sides of farmland. Once I harvested the first side, I refilled it with new seeds, and I moved on the next side. Once I finished the fourth side, my first and second sides were all ready to be harvested; my third one was not done but close to completion.

I would always have food to eat that way, and that was what we have here when we talk about the "sides" of your creative proccessing. To explain, the number of "sides" was the number of times you could revive your spirit or rejuvenate your dulled senses. Basically, the more "sides" you had, the more consistent you would be!

I used this strategy all the time, and that was the reason I moved here: to increase the number of times I could stay "alive" and going.

Woo! It'd be nice if I lay back and shut my eyes for a second now. I did this all the time when my head got full and needed to relax.

My streaming channel was now at an average of 6,000 viewers. I didn't think people would be interested in this kind of stuff, but hey! Looks like things were booming, and that was great!

I set up polls on what genre did my viewers read the most this season. About 11% were into sci-fi probably because of the recent innovations in technology. 26% loved rom-coms; of course, it was the calming side of novels. Mystery and crime, adventure, and mature were in a great war with each averaging around 20%. The other 3% were people who were flexible and basically changed genres after every read.

It was cool having talks like these. The only difference between real life was that you felt like you were on two different planes of existence: the chat bar and the live stream.

Moving onto another topic, I had always loved freestyle, whether it was rap or singing. Now that I looked into it. You needed to have a vast collection of words to express what you were feeling or thinking about.

Furthermore, I wasn't really introduced to music other than movie music when I was a child, and we didn't watch movies that much. So I had to depend on myself to make music since I was music enthusiast.

I wouldn't write down my music because I was slow and bad at handwriting.

What I would do was make up lyrics and sing or rap it at the spot. I thought it was a normal thing until I tried the music I avoided so much out of fear. I soon learned only a few could go live and freestyle whatever tune or lyrics that came out from their heart.

I tell you, it wasn't easy not repeating yourself. I needed to intentionally learn how to condition my mind to new phrases and words without stopping to think.

Even now, I played guitar and played around with spontaneous songwriting for about 5 to 15 minutes to relax my mind.

In the end, I finished my first fantasy action. It wasn't nice deciding whether the Dragonos killed the main character or becomes his friend.

I had to go with the main character becoming a Dragonos after completing the challenges set for him. It took a dark turn after he was told to train himself mentally, emotionally, and physically. Once he was done, they put him into a long slumber. When he came to his senses, he was in a Dragonos' body. He finished the test unconsciously. He realized all he had to do was train and hope God succeeded with the body—his body. God told him he finished the challenges for him—killing people. But before doing so, the main character tortured and devoured them bit by bit.

It wasn't a test at all. It was God's playtime.

"You can fly around the sky now. Talk with your fellow Dragonos. This is your eternal reward." God made a face not in the way I imagined He would do. He grinned at the most saddest moment with the most happiest smile.

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Returning to reality, I-I lost myself.

That was nice. Very existential. Eeek!

Hmm. Where I lived, it never snowed down here. I would like to see some snow. Oh wait. Nevermind. The weather would be much calmer when the water all went down the drain. That was my personal opinion anyway.

"Let me watch my anime." No kidding. I needed cute and funny, not real life things right now. I had watched too much dark shorts.

Oh, wait, nevermind! My eyes hurt. I was just going to cook up some food.

Eggs were phenomenal. I hadn't eaten eggs in a week or so, which made every coming dish "felis na bidad!"

Though I'd rather eat apples; much cheaper in the long run. No bias... yes bias.

I finished my egg sandwich, definitely pleased. I got full after two sandwiches.

It was so quiet today. I meditated in pitch-black silence when I noticed how tired I was getting.

I looked at myself without an indication of attachment, fear, anger, hate, love, and worry. I felt happy. If this wasn't happiness, then what was?

Someone knocked on my door. I stood up, walked slowly to the door, and asked, "Who's there?"

It was a woman's voice. She said, "I'm here to deliver a package."

"Oh, sure," I replied, looking down at the ground as the top side of my head leaned against my rugged, wooden door. "I-I'll get the money. Please wait."

"Okay," she said calmly.

"Yeah, just wait for a second," I called from the back; my voice muffled as water poured down my face.

I brought the money, staring at the doorknob as I walked toward the door. I stopped. The door was right in front of me. The person out there was waiting. I, opened the door slowly, hoping to see a kind face.

It was a freckled redhead. She smiled; her eyebrows raised and hands holding out the box she went to deliver.

I tried to imitate her friendly gesture, only to give a half-smile. I thought: "Oh, sorry. Here's the money."

"Thanks. . . . but what, wha-what are you being sorry for?" Her concern revealed as she waited for my decisive answer.

"I-I took too long. Sorry." My voice was a whisper.

She stared at me like she was staring beyond my outward self. She stepped back, looked away, and fixed her hair.

Her eyes were nice, I thought. That was the kind of eyes I had a crush on.

Her hair, too, I thought. Medium length semi-curly hair.

Her face too, I thought for the last time, That circular face with all those features. She was... she was amazing.

She looked hesistant, either looking at me this second and looking away the next. "I need to tell you something." she cooed. "Wanna sing a song I've working on?"

"Uh, why?"

She shot me disappointed looks, and I was just there wondering what genre of novels I was in.

She was pacing back and forth like a mob was after her or something, so before she could think of leaving my house front, I shot back her bewilderment, asking, "May I ask?"—she instantly turned back to me who had started to whisper—"Why do you want to make a video with me?"

"Oh, I just, yeah, it's nothing, it's nothing, never mind, I-I'll just go."

She was leaving. Oh no. I-I can't leave her like that.

I ran after her and grabbed her hand. She had a bracelet around her left wrist. It was pretty.

Wait, why did I grab her hand?

"Uh, hey. I can do it. L-let's do it." What the hell was I saying? Sounded so off. Why in the world was I thinking? I felt obligated to let go of her hand quick.

I let go. One thought emerged: she felt obligated to have blushed at least.

Another thought emerged: Oh shut up. I've got no time for you.

"O-okay. Meet me at my house tomorrow morning? I'm Rino and I'm your neighbour by the way. I'm right"— she pointed to her right —"there!"

I looked over in the direction she was looking. "Oh, that house. I thought it was a family house. Like the one with an entire family in it."

"Oh, I'm an only child and my mother and father died two years ago."

Oh, did I say that out loud?

"Yeah, you did."

"Oh, I'm sorry about that."

"It's okay... meet me here tomorrow, okay?"

"Sure! Oh and, I'm Skyler. My name is Skyler."

I waved good-bye. It was nice having someone to talk to every once in a while I realized.

Soon, I came to her house, and she was there to greet me: "Oh, hey... hey! Nice to see you here."

"Oh, I feel the same."

"Yeah... let's just go in."

"Ok, sure."

She had a nice place. I mean, her room was great—great for recording!

We sat down two stools with an amazing pale-colored background—Oh gosh, save me. This was too good.

The cameras were up high. When she showed me one of her videos, We were both going to be at the middle in the lower corner of the video.

She placed an transparent frame attached to the wall. The icon resembled herself posing, facing the left side, and eyes looking elsewhere. Her logo was taking half of the icon with herself taking the other half and overlapping a little bit.

After seeing everything, I asked her: "Why do you need me?"

"Oh, I hear you singing from time to time and just thought maybe you wanted to record a solo? The show's not exclusive to me only, you know?"

"Oh, thanks. It's nice being acknowledged by a fellow musician. I can feel the passion."

"Thanks . . . wait, before we get all emotional, what song do you want to cover?" Or do you want to sing an original?"

"How about this?" I asked her if I could take my guitar back at home; she agreed.

I came back, explaining, "I have a song I want to sing. Will you take a listen first?"

"Oh, sure, you can give me the audio file and I'll play it on my speakers."

"Oh, no, uh . . . I'll sing it here and now."

I took my guitar from its stand, sat on the small stool, and began to recite the words: "Your love is a dear grave, I can't escape without the pain ripping me apart.

"I'll climb my way back to freedom, even if my feet crumbles under the heaviness of my mind.

"This is my way of life, my answer to death, my answer to lies. . . ."

"That's, that's, that's amazing! Your voice really brings out the genre and mood of your song. I love it!"

"Oh... thanks."

"Oh man, I just sounded like my voice teacher just now. I'm sorry about that."

"It's fine, though," I assured her.

I finished the recording and went right back home to my cherished, newly washed pillowcases. Ha, amazing! This... was just... amazing.

I loved recording, but most of the time, I'd rather sleep and not care too much.

I'm not saying I'm scared of trying my best and going after my dreams. It was getting my head wrapped around achievements and pleasing people so badly that it hurts. I really don't want to care at all.

This was how I wanted to see it—I did care, but I didn't. I only wanted to live in peace while helping people—that was all.

Ooh! Another day of me being myself. No bother at all.

I lay down quiet nicely, daydreaming of the world I wanted to look at right this very moment.

I talked out loud to my "bros and sisters" who were the voices in my head. We only talked for my convenience actually. It was nice to sort out thoughts when you need to.

If I didn't do these things, I would just stay still in silence in pitch-black darkness, and I did.

I faked death for hours. . . .

I couldn't say this any other way. It was just fun not feeling attached to anyone and anything in any way. I felt free.

I remembered a time when I used to hate caring about what other people say about me. I got anxious whenever I made a mistake from fear of the words that people would throw at me. I was a highly-sensitive person, so these kinds of things really hit me in the chest.

Being a highly sensitive person (HSP) wasn't all that bad. Music hit me harder which made it easier for me to recognize beats, rhythms, and melodies. I wrote and expressed more dramatically from the average person.

I had changed though. Things didn't affect me the way they used to back then. I no longer felt inclined to get into relationships. I got attracted to beautiful women or enjoyed the fun friends had, but when it came to "me" connecting to the world in an interpersonal way, I didn't feel pleasure for it. Instead, it made me uncomfortable and trapped.

I'd rather stay alone as this was the freest feeling.

I began talking to the bros and sisters in my head.

Good evening everybody.

Good evening, Hank.

How's everythin' going 'round here?

Everything's going great, Sir!

That's great. . . . hey Daisy, Rainbow, come over here!

Oh, hi! I haven't seen you in a while. How's it been?

I released the book of Dreamer yesterday.

Dreamer? Where's Dreamer by the way?

He was sleeping right now.

Oh, I see. . . by the way, what do you want to do tonight, Sky?

Ah, I don't know. I might just listen to music.

Hey Sky. What's going on?

Oh no.

Wanna go... yourself today, Sky?

Look at this. Look, look you piece of...!

I think we should st—

Hahaha... you! All you... do is... lie down and... do nothing with your life!

I needed my music quick.

Now you could go shut up now! All you do was laze around and nothing but...!

Oh gosh, he was really loud.

I listened to music before I went and slept. I couldn't let him terrorize me like that. He needed to stop.

Where were we?

Oh yeah, we were handling papers. I needed to pay bills.

And yes, I did talk to myself out loud normally. Most of the time, I said something in my one voice—myself—and replied to myself in a different person or voice. I didn't understand any of this, but I did it all the time. Well, it was really embarassing knowing the world didn't talk to themselves in this manner.

I didn't always do it any way; it was only when I needed to disconnect from my body self and readjust my perspective.

Now, to the bathroom!

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" I said with relaxation.