"Really?"

"Yes."

"I'm so proud of you!" I cheered.

"Whatever, let's move on from the topic,okay?" Same old Lovi.

"No! We are going to talk about because it's amazing!" I knew I was pushing him.

"Fine..."

"Who is it?"

"I'm not telling you that."

"If you don't I will find someway to get it out of you." I was determined but then I found out and he complained about how I almost broke his eardrums.

I smiled at the memory. Things were so different then. Back then I actually had hope. Back then I was happy. I was so young. Even though I'm still the same age, I've grown up. I know the misery of the world and the good that's sprinkled throughout. I hate it. Just as anyone should. Even then, I don't hate it that much. I just want peace. Both to me and the world.

Maybe that's why I have to work at a restaurant dealing with insufferable assholes I'm just too old for all this. But no one would ever let me retire. After all, I haven't aged a day since I turned 18. Technically I'm 119 years old. I should be dead. Honestly, I'd rather be dead. I can't handle anything anymore.

I don't know I guess one day I'll find that one person that I've been waiting for. At least I'm not the only one that's waited more than 10 years. Kiku has waited 19 years so far. At least he enjoys me telling him about the past.

The past.

It seems almost like a fantasy now. A story from a book long forgotten and rotting in a library. It's sad really. I think the worst part is that I remember every single moment of the past. If only I could forget...

Work was the same. Though I did have a hangover that made slamming my head on a table seem like nothing. It made everything so much harder. At least today was a slow day.

I guess opening a restaurant wasn't the best. Nothing really happens. It hadn't been lively in the place in decades. It was a small place in the corner of a street. Only a few tables enough for to handle on my own. I guess I should hire someone. Whatever. At least with the slowness I could sit down and have some coffee.

The silence is what I hate. It caused me to think and for me to think means hell. Memories come back. Thoughts come up. The coffee is never strong enough. It's pain.

That's the thing I hate about mornings. The silence that's there because no one is awake. Loneliness is the thing I fear because I had to bare it for so long.

Suddenly, the bell on the door rang snapping me out of my thoughts.