10 days left.
He counted the days down off his calendar and realized that it was just that, simply 10 days till his twenty-first birthday.
"What have you done since then?"
He wondered and realized he hadn't done anything of considerable value. On his last birthday, he was in despair. He felt pain, disappointment, anger and disgust at himself.
The reason behind those feelings had been forgotten but the promise he made with himself was clear.
"...by next year, I'll be different. My situation would be different and if it wasn't that would be my last day."
Any change since then?
He took a look round his room, thinking of what may have changed. His room seemed scantier than it did before then.
He had sold some stuff out, parted with other things and the rest were too small or of no use so he gave them away.
His room wasn't encouraging so he decided to go out and get something to eat.
To eat? With which money?
He thought to himself looking at his account. He was broke and now fully dependent on his parents.
"Would fifteenth be my 21st birthday or my 1st deathday."
He muttered in dejection as he laid in bed in thought.
3 days left.
A lot had happened in seven days, so much so now that he sat alone in church with an earpiece in his ears and blasting One Direction.
He no longer desired to die at 21—at least he didn't want it to end at the beginning of the day. Last minute goals are allowed in a game.
So let's wait till then.
A lot had happened, he had decided to begin looking at a new career path. Had finally admitted that he had fallen in love and in four days had gotten his heart broken.
He had written three papers, emotionally lost two friends and physically gotten more tired.
Yet somehow he was more hopeful. More willing to hope.
On some days, he felt that he was just being a coward as usual. He didn't have the mind to go through with it. The mind to give himself a big hurt and then he stops hurting forever.
Yet on better days, he knew that he wasn't a coward nor was it anything to do with fear.
It was a pride thing.
He realized that he hadn't really experienced everything he wanted out of life.
He wanted to live on his own. Go to a club (even if he knows he wouldn't like it) and then there are his perverted dreams that are yet to be fulfilled.
His favorite show hasn't finished airing, he wasn't a billionaire yet and the closest one is that a friend promised to treat him on his day.
"Isn't that enough to stay alive for?"
00:00
He was awake when it hit and he realized this was the twenty four hours of truth.
He was now 21 and since the age first hit him ten days ago, his thought process since then had changed.
He realized he had actually done a lot of things—even if they weren't things that could actually be counted right now.
In the past one year, he had hosted and gone to quite a number of events, felt the thrill and failure situated with being an entrepreneur, fallen in and fallen out of love, and finally reached his final year in university with a bunch of fun, loving and pretty juniors pushing him on.
He also has some seniors watching, cheering and waiting till he finishes, a few of them would read this too and to them he was eternally grateful.
"Twenty One." He thought out loud laying on his bed in the dark of the night.
He was scared. Scared to the bone, yet at the same time he was thrilled.
For someone who didn't think he'd pass 17, someone who tried to kill himself at 19 and hated his life and family at 20, he was glad he made it here.
Before he knew it, the tears started pouring. He reflected on all his troubles and his pains. His failures, near wins and regrets. He wheezed and walked, screaming into his pillow as he remembered everything.
The money lost, relationships ruined and opportunity ruined because of bad placement, lack of discipline and sheer laziness.
He swore this year would be different. With red eyes, he prayed and plotted. He went to his phone and downloaded a planner.
He knew what he wanted to be. He just needed a way to get there.
By 00:40 he had a framework of a plan. It probably wouldn't be finished in his twenty-first year, maybe not in his twenty-third year.
Yet he'd know if there was progress and if there wasn't... He'd just start again.
It was by 00:45 where his phone rang. Teary eyed, he picked the call and was met with the shrill scream from the end of the other line..
"Happy birthday Seki!!!!!"
He knew the voice, and her enthusiasm despite it being the middle of the night was appreciated and well needed.
With the first heartfelt smile of the day, he replied.
"It is a happy birthday."
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