Never Enough In The World

[Deleted]

OOC: Because I just wanted to write something. Mods can delete this afterward. Using this personally to establish a feel for the character.

---

I didn't have enough money to drink tonight so I found myself whisking my keys, walking out our apartment, and skipping down the stairs to the old Chevrolet. Driving at the crack of two-to-three in the morning on a Fall morning was as close as I was gonna get to moving around with my head in a deep fog.

There was several gallons of gas lost in that pointless drive, as I looked at the street lights barely illuminating the lanes. I wish I could say there was something meaningful or even symbolic about the orange in the darkness, but the streets I drove through left me with memories as blurred as the lights were.

Really need to get a new window pane. All the moisture really just sticks to it. Wipers just make it worse, spreading the gunk off. Except that plays into twinfold problem of not having enough money and not caring enough to do anything about it.

Sometimes, I worry if it's because I secretly want to crash.

...Of course, anything short "completely coincental" death is out of the question. Suicide's not strong enough for a coward like myself. And it'd be impossible to throw in some extravagant scheme at the cost of all my worldly possessions for one big, meaningful death scene, seeing as how the risk of me changing my mind, becoming lazy, or failing due to being too half-assed about my death is just too damn high.

I mean, what if I changed my mind and woke up from a overdose-induced coma six months later? The financial bullshit would be uncomfortable. If I wanna die, I wanna die. Discomfort be damned. If I'm going to live, might as well not be miserable about it.

...Some car ride, huh?

Aside from a few flashing lights and a non-stop fog, it was an uneventful trip to Tyler's house. Not that I was going to actually ring his doorbell or anything. I just parked in front of his house, pushed the recliner in my chair and sat looking into the ceiling, with no other distraction to myself of myself.

Waited an hour, thinking maybe I could garner some wisp of special meaning from it all, the purpose of it.

It sucked.

I ended up driving back to the apartment after it was around four. Cold, grumpy, and eyes sagging, I crept back in, sliding the key into the knob as gently as possible, trying not to wake up Anju. Sis had work in the early morning, after all.

Creeping in on my toes, I kept my fingers slowed to mollify the door knob, in spite of the obnoxious creaking sounds that came from the door's joints. Swore I'd get some WD-40 to fix that. Squeezing the door shut I passed by her room to the living room couch, my ears perking up to the sound of static and various cartoon characters talking.

She was busy getting our electricity bill higher. Couldn't sleep without the television on. Coping mechanism, maybe, but I sure wasn't going to tell her off for it. Especially not with the sofa so well set for me.

The sofa. Yes, when I saw it, I knew she knew I'd been out, but I'm not one to be known to stay out without calling in. The white, fuzzy blanket was waiting for me so I kicked off my shoes and slid in. The bathroom and hygiene could wait until the morning.




I guess that's where I fell asleep.




Nightmares suck.

[Deleted]

~5 Years Ago~

"Huh?"

I clicked. I could not hear the knocking.

"...?"

I clicked some more.

"Hey, Roadie, can I use your computer?"

"Hee..."

I could not stop clicking.

"I'm coming in..."

"Heeheehee---"

"...WHAT THE FUCK, ROD."

"WAIT, WHAT? WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN HERE, ANNIE!?"

"WHAT TH---MOM, ROD'S USING THE COMPUTER TO LOOK AT PORN."

"WHAT!?"

"---ER, IT'S A VIRUS, I SWEAR."

"EW, WHAT IS SHE DOING TO HIM?"

"I'M COMING UPSTAIRS."

"OHMYGODMOM, YOU DO NOT NEED TO COME UPSTAIRS FOR THIS---"

"EEWWWW, WHAT IS THAT TITLED?"

"UH, UM, NOTHING!"

"I TOTALLY SEE YOU CLICKING OUT OF THE WINDOW, YOU PERVERT. I THINK IT SAYS BR---"

"---ROD XU JIAO, WHAT IN GOD'S NAME---"

"---THERE, IT'S OFF. IT'S TOTALLY OFF. MIGHT'VE DAMAGED THE POWER SOURCE WHILE I WAS AT IT, VIRUS IS... THE VIRUS IS GONE."

"THERE WILL BE NO PORNOGRAPHY IN THIS HOUSEHOLD, YOUNG MAN."

"PERVERT! PERVERTTTT!!!"

---

...Would you believe I missed all this?

My sister and I did not have the best of relationships growing up. I've come to the conclusion that this is pretty much impossible, unless the brother's a pansy or the sister's a docile bitch or some mix. While our age gap did not necessitate any physical violence, I could not doubt that Anju was pretty determined to make me suffer in my inferiority to her and her... "maturity."

She was eighteen at the time. I was just thirteen, not even in high school yet.

Being half-Chinese, half-white, stood out, but never truly. We had our lazy ethic left at home, loved our personal space.

...Which is why having only one computer in the house led to constant strife.

My older brother had already moved out and was long gone, the distance already creating a more peaceful atmosphere about him. Annie and I were stuck at home until we could move out ourselves, and with our mother's highly conservative raising, the tension in the house was pretty low. Didn't help that dad was mostly working... nor that he didn't help out much.

There was a strong problem, though. Annie's personality was strong. Really strong. Naturally, she filtered out the bad, cheesy jokes that parents will throw at us and she would conflict with their over-protectiveness (especially being that she was a girl). Being rebellious, her stronger personality outweighed our mother's. She had almost gotten herself thrown out of the house for how much grief she had caused. It couldn't be helped, as mom had allowed us much freedom of thought, in her highly conservative, religious household. And her logic was outdated and sometimes outright wrong, by today's standard.

And as I grew up and the fear of shame and tradition on me weakened... I began to notice these imperfections in my mother that emboldened Annie so much.

---

~3 Years Ago~

I had just been taking a nap. It had been a bad day at school, an even worse day at my part-time job. Thankfully, my hours had been cut for that day and I got to go home early. I would go directly to my room and flop onto my bed, my work clothes undone in a hurry and tossed onto the kitchen chairs in passing.

It was around 7ish.

I heard the garage door open and my mother calling out to me.

"Roadie, I'm home!"

I ignored it. Initially.

"Roadie?"

"...Just... taking a nap, mom," I'd call out as loudly as possible with no energy spent to make it deadpan.

"Oh, good. Did you go to the dentist appointment today?"

...I had received the message to report to them yesterday, but it slipped out the other ear. It would be "impossible" to go to the appointment because I had already agreed to cover someone else's shift---a thought that didn't occur to me until late the night before.

Too bad the dentist's office hours were closed by that time.

Having given up, due to my constant forgetfulness, I resolved to call them the morning of---that day, that is.

"...No..."

"...What...?"

"...I didn't go to the appointment today. I had work."

I braced myself.

"ROD, THAT'S INCREDIBLY IRRESPONSIBLE. I TOLD YOU THEY TOLD ME TO TELL YOU TO CANCEL YESTERDAY IF YOU COULDN'T MAKE IT. WHY DIDN'T YOU CALL THEM YESTERDAY?"

"Mom... I know."

The overreactions wouldn't be so bad...

"THAT IS SO BAD. YOU SHOULD HAVE CALLED THEM YESTERDAY. WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?"

"Mom... I know."

...If... you know, she didn't always overreact so badly.

"THEY'RE PEOPLE TOO, ROD. NOW YOU DIDN'T GIVE THEM A CHANCE FOR ANOTHER PATIENT TO FILL IN YOUR SPOT AND YOU COMPLETELY WASTED THEIR TIME---"

"MOM. I KNOW."

EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.

"IT WAS COMPLETELY IRRESPONSIBLE OF ME."

"WHAT'S DONE IS DONE AND THERE'S NO MORE POINT---"

"NO, THERE IS A POINT. WHAT YOU DID WAS ABSOLUTELY TERRIBLE TO---"

Any and all chance of finishing my nap had gone out the window. I had been lying down as passively as possible, hoping for this to blow over as quickly as possible, but the woman had just succeeded in getting my adrenaline pumping.

"OKAY MOM. NOW I'M ANGRY TOO. IS THIS WHAT YOU WANTED?"

I had stomped down to the kitchen where she was, keeping a ten feet distance as I leaned over the couch, my voice contrasting heavily with the apathy of my face and body's poise, in some ill-attempt to keep my composure.

"NO, THAT'S NOT WHAT I WANTED."

She was a stubborn woman. It ran in all of us from both sides.

"---Mom. Worrying about this at this point is a waste of emotional energy."

If only logic and reasoning actually worked. I had deadened my voice to how much I actually cared about all of this. Which was none.

"THIS IS NOT A WASTE. NOW, LISTEN TO ME---"

"---Nope. I'm not going to listen to you."

"HOW DARE YOU---"

"It doesn't matter what you say right now. I will not listen and any further talk would be a waste of energy. I already felt bad in the morning, knowing how I flippantly wasted their time and I made sure to apolog---"

"ROD. Rod. Listen to me---"

"I already said, I will not listen."

There was a moment of pause. She was not showing it, but the pause already meant that she had begun to sulk.

"Fine."

Of course, my heart rate was up and wasn't showing any signs of going down. She had completely activated my "fight-flight" mentality and I was completely ready to fight. With words and reason---completely useless tools against her when she chose to emotionally stress herself out like this.

---

In these arguments, there was never any "winning" or "losing." Any competitiveness in any such argument would've led to heavy disappointment on either side, something we all acknowledged.

After all, in spite of the pettiness of our arguments (which, if I had been responsible 90% of the time, we would've never gotten into them, which was my fault), and the wasted energy that I strived so desperately to hold onto in these unveiled moments of weakness, our family was still strangely tightly knit. It was an unspoken rule to, no matter how angry you were, if you were leaving the house after an argument to still say goodbye.

To say "I love you."

Because, you see, you never know if you're going to randomly lose your life at the whimsy of life's ways. We always did it, every one of us, because we were afraid of what we did not know.

The same way I did not know we would lose mom a year ago.

It's hard to say "I love you" to someone knowing they can't answer back "I love you too."

[Deleted]

~A Brief Backstory~

The genealogy beyond my immediate family doesn't seem as important and is far less relevant so we'll skip mentioning them unless needed. What you do need to know (need, being relative) is that Eldest was sired in around 1978 as Wong Xa Jiao. He is twelve years my senior, a successful psychologist major, and happily married and employed on the east coast---far away from the mess happening right now. He is a man of many talents, highly tempermental, and possess a rather "manly" attitude of suffering in silence---whereas all the emotion leaks out of his face in glowing red cheeks.

My sister, Anju Xi Jiao is a generally pleasant girl, born in 1985, five years my senior. Quite done with her marketing major and now employed rather happily at "Perry's Design," which thankfully has nothing to do with the politics at hand. She is becoming quickly successful, her masterful social skills and half-assed networking (she could really do better, if she was so inclined, but it goes against the family's general character to be that social), and a work ethic that is nearly on par with Eldest, and it's a wonder how she's still single. And don't mind boasting that I have a beautiful sister---though the family agrees that sending her to private school was not worth seeing that short skirt worn every day.

I am Rod "Roadie" Xu Jiao. I was born in 1990. I'm at a bit of a cultural crossroad between being raised in a totally Caucasian public and a totally traditional, conservative-Christian Chinese family (though I can't say much for my own beliefs personally). I am... currently taking a break from college, given the mess that has happened, and the higher level of priorities that need to be tended to. More on that later.

Rather than being versatile or a specialist, I'm more of a muddied down version of a jack-of-trades and was trying my hand at electrical engineering, prior to "the event." Unlike the average 259er, I'm fairly average in all the specs of my physicality, my strength, my speed, and (even more questionably) my intelligence and wisdom. I love people who can make me laugh, like my sister. I despise but can respect people who are too straightforward and intense, like my brother. I try to honor my family's integrity and values in memory of my mother. I am newly off the leash of our dad, and in my sister's care---which has turned out to be fortunate.

The missiles took out the apartment we were in. It took a bit, but we finally got our cellphones back online and communicated back with Eldest and papa. They both kept their households. Anju and I... are currently living in the car.

But more on that later. I think it'd be best to detail the day prior to the missile attack and the chaos on the streets after some shut eye.

Thank goodness for twenty layers of heavy blankets.

[Deleted]

Normality by itself isn't a good thing. What is normal in a war torn Africa country is far more unhealthy than what is considered normal in the U.S.A. We, the natives of the U.S.A. have the luxury of believing that our lives are peaceful, distant from the problems from all the "third world countries," traveling to and from the more sophisticated lands as a dream before returning home to an even more comfortable place we liked to call home. Chances are if you can relate to this, you're probably a Caucasian in your early twenties, you're going through the "struggles" (more then likely self-induced) of college, and the simple matter of making ends meet is your biggest issue.

"Oh God, I can't pay the bills on time, my car needs its maintenance check-up, and the internet is down!"

"I was kidnapped as a child, sold into child prostitution and eventually reared into become a child soldier. I can not eat unless I do as I'm told and I have been raped repeatedly and have begun raping myself in order to incur and grant favor in my tribe."

For anyone who lurks on the internet, this sort of "meme" has undoubtedly been come across on more than one occasion. The issues of the middle class in a first world country versus the destitute with "no other way of life." As a soap box moment, if we actually cared, we would stop with this "Occupy" bullshit and work towards the betterment of others in other countries, because it's the fabled "right thing to do."

Of course, none mattered before to us. And it especially doesn't matter now. Selfishly we have worked towards the "me, me, me," and I am just as guilty of it as you. I have lived happily in this first world country, enjoying the daily struggles of an up-and-coming middle class man...

...Until they came from the sky.

You know what I mean. The missiles. The streams of smoke looked so foul as they ran across our clean California skies. I'd just gotten home from my afternoon shift and got out of my car. I was so busy with the stupid buttons on my uniform, it took me a second to realize that my sister had burst out of the apartment, screaming at me. Screaming something about "look at the sky."

It had been a pretty good day, I managed to keep my uniform pretty clean. Meant one less week of using the washing machine. When I looked up, I dropped that perfectly ---TBC

[Deleted]

I was overcome.

I will not erase the previous post. Strong emotions burst for a reason. Still, I feel the need to start from scratch, from the beginning. And even by that definition, it would be necessary for me to start a little earlier then even that.

The emotion isn't as raw as it was before, but I've drafted it several times, now. With this more forward way of thinking, maybe now I'll write.

[Deleted]

They took her.

[Deleted]

They've done something to the bullets.

It's been... over a month since we were thrown into this mess. It's been over a week since I lost her.

I tried killing myself today.

The gun, it was right there and...

It took so much will just to figure out how to undo the safety, cock it. I put it into my mouth. It was easy. I did not realize how little I cared.

And then I pulled the trigger.

As if to spit on me, I received a mouthful of gunpowder into the back of my mouth. Took hours to wash it out. The vomiting helped.

Killing myself with rope and knives don't seem as effective. There's still poison, but... I can't bring myself to break our family's taboo with the old practice. The gun seemed well enough because... it was a machine doing the work.

I'm a coward.

I'm lonely, my sister was taken by them after they did... that to her... and...

...God fucking dammit.

GOD FUCKING DAMMIT.

[Deleted]

I'm punishing myself again.

I don't know why I do this. It's absolutely pointless. Staying up into the early hours of the morning, when even the sun refuses to peak out at me only makes me lay there, stirring in my own thoughts. Hating myself. It is for some reason outside my bounds to produce for myself an easy night's rest.

With little recourse, I've been living in the remains of our bombed out apartment. I still say "our" because technically, the papers are still in the safe, "legally" this apartment still runs in her name, though there isn't much left of the landlord to really validate this these days. Every morning, I wake up in her room in her bed where they did that to her. I haven't changed the sheets, either. The blood and the stains are still there. I am literally "enjoying" sleeping in my own family's desecration.

It's because I'm weak, you see.

I could never be as strong as my sister. Not like that.

I find it incredibly funny that I used to call that asshole my friend. We GREW UP TOGETHER in middle school. He actually GOT ALONG with my family. He KNEW my sister.

Oh yes. Yes, I'm terribly fucking grateful that he saved my sister by making me a fucking deal I didn't even have part in.

Dammit, Annie. I miss you so much and all I can do is WRITE IN THIS FUCKING JOURNAL AND WHINE LIKE A BITCH.

---

My clothes are becoming too loose for me. I need to eat more, but we only have so much food and water left.

Fucking...

...

It's a "dog eat dog" world, right? It's okay, right?

[Deleted]

The streets are an empty void, desolate of life. All the neighborhood buildings I used to look upon with so much love and interest are becoming thinner and thinner. More people are joining Barker. Less people that remain survive as long.

My throat is as empty as the streets. As of this afternoon, I am out of water. I only have scraps of food.

And the only ones willing enough to walk around are them.

Barker patrols. Barker patrols. Barker patrols.

They check the alleyways. They knock on doors, sometimes with threats, sometimes with promises.

But they are constantly on patrol.

They have gotten cocky. They carry around food, water bottles and swing their weapons around, dulling their batons against brick, abusing their equipment. They walk in the same pattern every time, Monday matching last Tuesday. Tuesday matching last Wednesday.

This is a "peaceful" part of town.

I have prepared fishing lines and strung them up on cans. I've been setting up the rooftops with the old, empty fridge and the old, broken television. I've sharpened the family sword Annie took with her on the whetstone...

How many months has it been?

The air screams of vengence. My skin only loosely wraps around me. I have not showered in the past three days, I have chosen to remain naked in doors to keep my remaining clothes somewhat clean.

Tonight, I want to bathe. Tonight, I set up the traps in the dead hour that they do not patrol during. Tonight, I finish up the scraps without any thought of self-preservation---I will need the strength.

Tonight, I will prepare my hands.

I will try this "killing" business.

This is a "peaceful" part of town.

I intend to change that.

[Deleted]

Pungency of gasoline in the air takes me back. It takes me back to the muggy days on the streets of Hong Kong. Everyone is sweating, the weather is unbearable, but we all press on happily, filled with stony energy. We are baked by the sun, but we are energized for it. Such a short time was spent so my memories drip off my chin in droplets of sweat, but the sensations remain, burning away in me.

I remember the feeling and the feelings.

In honesty, I'm surprised to still have this. Many things have happened, but I was not pushed by anything to talk about the recent months. Not completely, not yet.

Unwanted, unborn child. Love in danger. Splintered families. Lost, unborn child. Cruelly timed responsibilities. Disintegrating dreams.

I have my own sister to worry about, to cry over, to get back.

Nothing yields, so I content myself to listening to others. I fall on hard ground to hurt myself, to remember pain. I put the knife at my neck to remind myself of my options. I can't even draw a drop.

...Of myself, anyways.

I would pray, but I would feel like no one would hear me. Maybe its impossible to sully God, maybe its arrogant to think I could bother whatever deity him or her or it may be, but maybe that's why I can't clasp my hands.

After so many months, I want to say that I'm jaded. I want to say that the blood doesn't bother me anymore, that I've finally embraced this world of violence. I would like to say that it's pressing it down into neck has become easier in my mind. Its just impossible to run on hatred and vengeance alone.

Everyone gets hungry. And I start to feel again.

And then I wish I could see that fog rolling by, that I still had my car, as everything would just wash over me.

I'm leaving it at here. Something's happening.

This can't be happening.