Writing Exercise

Entonces estoy llevando un curso de diseño de juegos de una universidad de california, y como ejercicio nos pusieron a escribir una trama para Pacman y votar por la trama favorita escrita por alguien más, la mía está de primera en votos yei!

Creo que más que mérito mío es falta de amor en las otras escrituras pero bueno la pongo acá para acordarme de lo que escribí :)

Emilio Monge 4 hours ago WARNING: I went kinda dark with the story, sorry about that. So there is John, this regular guy who always wanted to save people, he has this moniker where people call him PACific MAN, because he was always so peaceful and calm. John used to work as a fireman for lots of years, but a certain event made him quit. He was once saving lots of people in a building on fire and as he found the last person inside, this old lady was speaking a foreign language, luckily one of John's partners on the fire department was also from Uzbekistan so he translated, apparently her nephews were hidden inside the building because they were in the USA illegally and without a visa. As soon as John understood this, he went back inside the building on fire, only to return without part of his soul. He found the children, but couldn't save them. They only thing he could bring back the old fragile lady, just before she burst into tears, was a slightly burnt picture. The picture had 4 children in them, the same ones John couldn't save: a boy doing some drawings on his notebook, a small girl who was blinking while the picture was taken, the oldest boy who was apparently wearing an really old and filled with holes shirt of Bonnie & Clyde, and finally the sweetest little girl which was wearing all pink. That was the last day John worked as a fireman, and that was the day the nightmares began...

So i found out i was forgotten...

I thought by the time this moment came I'd be okay.

So it turns out I'm still not.

About forgetting...

“Most things are forgotten over time. Even the war itself, the life-and-death struggle people went through is now like something from the distant past. We’re so caught up in our everyday lives that events of the past are no longer in orbit around our minds. There are just too many things we have to think about everyday, too many new things we have to learn. But still, no matter how much time passes, no matter what takes place in the interim, there are some things we can never assign to oblivion, memories we can never rub away. They remain with us forever, like a touchstone.”

― Haruki Murakami

We'll never feel bad anymore...

So going through old photos. Nope. Still not ready.

(sigh)

No se si quiero ser el tipo de persona q está  triste por recordar, o el tipo de persona que está feliz por olvidar.

Ahorita sigo estando más cerca del primer tipo que del segundo.

Sitting all alone inside your head...

Digamos que estoy bien

Que difícil tener que aparentar estar bien, que difícil saber que solo a uno le importa lo que está pasando por la cabeza.

Supongo que es mi culpa por como soy dado que yo intento no revelar lo que siento.

Me encantaría lograr conseguir un inicio nuevo, pero no se donde encontrarlo ni siquiera si lo quiero. Parte de mi solo considera que lo necesita, necesito cambiar algo, necesito que algo sea distinto.

Ya he cambiado mucho pero nada mejora, solo sigue como igual.

No se la verdad, supongo que solo estoy lleno de dudas de mi mismo y quién soy y cual es mi lugar.

Digamos que estoy bien.

No lo estoy.