Today was good. I didn't have to go outside for any reason whatsoever. I think my parents have finally stopped trying, thank Arceus. I'm pretty sure the influx of trainers has dwindled. League season is over. But that doesn't stop the occasional new kid with his or her brand new starter, bright-eyed and enthusiastic.
I fucking hate them.
I remember when I turned 10. That was the worst day of my life. My parents woke me up early and prepared breakfast for me, all ready for me to go to the local professor. And I said no.
I've never seen anyone so disappointed in my life.
They took me to the lab anyway. I fought, but they dragged me there. They tried to convince me right there in the lab, and the professor too. It was really early and no one had taken a starter yet. He let out the grass one, the Chikorita. I ran out because I had heard that they let out spores or gas or something from their head leaves. I ran out of the lab, but I couldn't bear to return home. So I ran off to one of the town routes and cried to myself quietly, and muttered soothing things to myself until I felt better-I don't remember how many times I muttered the same thing to myself, but when I could finally stand up, the sun was setting-and I walked home dreading my parents' reaction.
They said nothing. We had a tense and silent dinner. And the next morning they told me that I should reconsider my decision to stay home.
And then again. And again. They told me over and over that I needed something to do while all of the other kids in town were heading out to be Pokémon masters. They told me I needed direction.
They've been telling me that for a good five years. The only direction I'm going is down. I have nothing to do. I can't go to school. I can't make friends. I can't do a single goddamn thing.
