This is Hell
Webcam turned on and loading. Monitor now on. Microphone headset now on as well.
I reached forward to adjust my new dark blue webcam before I start with my online journal.
Uhï¿½ hello everybody. This Black Hawk and here is my new online journal account. My last one got hacked into and purged a couple of days ago. So, I had to go and create a new account this morning. I should have done it as soon as I got the e-mail. But, Iï¿½m busy with school and work these days. Plus, Iï¿½m a bit of a lazy bum at heart. Iï¿½ve been one since I was in junior high. Donï¿½t worry; I still have the copies of the previous entries from my other account. I just need to finish uploading and posting them to the new account. But for right now, here I go with the first entry on the new account:
I clear my throat.
Nothing ever really changes here. It just repeats itself until it grinds to a halt. In adulthood, disillusionment sets in. And it all goes crashing down from there. And pretty soon, what do you have? Piles of lifeless corpses that rot away into your old age in a nursing home. Do you remember when you were a kid, you had big dreams? Then sadly, life murdered each one of them. Not all in one go, mind you. You had the joy of watching helplessly as your childhood dreams lie there as they slowly took in their last breath before they went into that good night. Pretty soon, you are left with dead dreams, a dead-end job, failed relationships, and a depressing reality.
Iï¿½m sorry, I digress. I will start again.
I know what youï¿½re thinking. Who the hell is this? No? Iï¿½ll tell you anyway.
My name is Benjamin Nelson. But please, call me Ben! I was born in 1987 andï¿½ Okay, Iï¿½m starting to sound boring, so Iï¿½m going to cut to the big details. I live with my best friend and girlfriend in a rural apartment complex in Suiten. Our company transferred us there under our work study program. Itï¿½s not much to look at, but hey, itï¿½s somewhere to live, right? I have my best friend and girlfriend to share in this exciting, new experience of Japanese country life. I dropped my head.
Who am I kidding? This is pathetic! Iï¿½m twenty years old and I have already fucked up my life. I suck at everything. My major is a waste. My work study program is nothing but a joke. I hate my job. I am a loser! My parents look on me with pity. My girlfriend makes Hitler look like a sane human being. Okay, thatï¿½s going a bit too far, but stay the night at my apartment with us. She can make even the most laid-back person take a trip to a padded cell. I know she loves and cares about me, but itï¿½s just nerve-wracking from day to day. That will unfold itself as well. Give me a moment there. I paused to regain myself. But yet, Iï¿½m not alone. To give a better picture of the whole situation, let me back up some here.
I was born in Tokyo on May seventeenth in 1987. I am not the only one, you see. Nine other people I know were also born in Tokyo in the same year. Crazy, right? Usually, it wouldnï¿½t really mean much, but as they say, this is only the first step into a complicated story. There was also a school fire in ï¿½92 and then we ended up scattered out from there. But over time, we ended up reuniting under some bizarre chain of events. It wasnï¿½t just us either. There are three teenage boys that have something called ï¿½out-of-body experiences.ï¿½ Weird, I know. Not as much as the little girl at that shrine that they encounter. Then, there are the angels. Oh, yes. Yes. There are angelsï¿½with the son of Satan, no less. Oh yeah, there is even a pedophilic priest along the way too. Please donï¿½t ask.
Okay, how is this adding up, you ask? Bear with me. I donï¿½t think I can fully explain what the hell is going on myself. Most of this just happened. Okay, there is some reasoning behind it. Even that is a mind-fuck in itself. I shrugged.
I donï¿½t know. Try to keep up with the story if you can. Even I canï¿½t keep up with whatï¿½s going on at times. Letï¿½s see, what time is it now? I glanced down at the clock on the taskbar of my laptop screen. 7:45. Hmï¿½ What else can I talk about until my girlfriend gets in? Hmï¿½
I sat back and took a moment to think about it.
Well, I guess I could talk about the girlfriend and the best friend for a little bit. But, only briefly. Now who to start with first. Kele or Julie? Hmï¿½
I weighed my options for a couple of seconds. Which one will get me in trouble a lot less if I open my big trap? Kele it is then.
Okay, Kele Gowon is my best friend. Or as he says it, best mate. Yes, he is English. His mother is a black woman from Liverpool and his father is a Nigerian military man. Like me, Kele was born in Tokyo in 1987. His birthday is the thirteenth of October. He too is on the work study with me. Kele and I go back since before the ï¿½92 school fire. I chuckled. Funny story on how we met.
Suddenly, my bedroom door opened. I looked behind me. A little smile came onto my face. And speak of the devil, look who it is.
ï¿½Sup?ï¿½ I asked my good pal. Kele looked over at my laptop and webcam with a puzzled look on his face.
ï¿½Youï¿½re still recording a journal?ï¿½ he asked.
ï¿½I told you my previous account was hacked into,ï¿½ I said. ï¿½So, Iï¿½m starting fresh and talking about all of us.ï¿½
ï¿½You mean--?ï¿½ he asked.
ï¿½Yeah,ï¿½ I said. ï¿½Us and all of them.ï¿½ I noticed his face of concern. I kept my smile at him.
ï¿½Easy there,ï¿½ I said. ï¿½I wonï¿½t go into too much detail. I want to live. I donï¿½t want Julie to get arrested for murder.ï¿½
ï¿½I was about to say,ï¿½ Kele said. I smiled at him. Good to see my old pal has managed to keep most of his sanity after all of this.