The.Days.Are.Running.As.One.

The first month of the year's done and over with. I still don't feel any older than I did on my birthday... Nineteen is so young but at the sametime supposed to be so adult... I dunno. I don't feel much like an adult.

Even though I don't feel like an adult, I always think I'm older than I actually am. I always think I can give in to temptation, drink all my feelings away, and let stress wash away through irresponsible actions. It's childish, but it's something adults sometimes do.

So maybe age doesn't really dictate how intelligent or rational you are. An adult who drinks away sorrow is just as childish as an elementary schooler who locks himself in his room.

I realized that everyone in the apartment has a hobby- Juuni cleans and draws, Lyreen takes interest in photography, and David is/was a manga junkie. I'm probably the only one without a favourite pastime or artistic talent. I dunno. Should that make me feel bad, because I never devoted any extra time to anything other than rights and gambling in the hopes that I can earn myself a little extra rainy day money?

Speaking of which, my savings money's been getting a tiny bit emptier by the day... It's a little suspicious, but I don't know... Not too many people know what I do on the streets.

I'm like that loner emo kid of the 'family.'

I.Love.The.Way.You.Scream.At.Me.<3

I never posted an introductory post, but I doubt that's necessary. Nobody needs to know about me.

There was a bar riot recently... Juuni got hurt in it, thanks to some idiot waitress who caused the whole thing. Not like the place was really worth staying at anyways, what with the stale beer and smell of sex and cigarettes polluting the place. And the sight of ugly whoreish waitresses hardly helped, either.

Back to the situation at hand.

Juuni was injured, and she was confined in the apartment.

Naturally, I skipped work and stayed with her, since I felt I was partially to blame for this accident.

She was, as per usual, cleaning to old people music - something that most women seem to do when they have too much time on their hands.

I tried to speak to her, to tell her that I was there to help her in case she needed anything, but she threatened me with her broom. Her words were, exactly, "Back the fuck up if you don't want this broom in your face."

I simply snatched the brrom from her and began to help sweeping, even though a part of me knew, deep, deep down, that she would hate me even more for it.

But I could take the hate. I could take her screaming and stress, because I know it filters out at least some stress for her. It kind of helps her.

Kind of.

Of course, she stole her brrom back and smacked me in the knee with it. I couldn't really expect much else from JuuniBear, now could I? She simply smacked me and put her earphones on, continuing to clean as if I didn't exist.

Was she mad at me? Most likely. She's almost always irritated at me for one reason or another.

But I got a horrible gut feeling, as if she had some sort of hatred for me at that moment, like I had done something.

All I wanted was to help her.

Instead of getting more into her hair, I simply sat down, keeping my eye on her in case she were to trip and fall or something.

There was something about the way that she cleaned, though... It wasn't like the old lady maids that looked like they hated to do it, but it was the only they their wrinkled asses are good at. It was like cleaning wiped away her troubles. Like each little speck of dirt was some sort of problem or blemish in her life, and she was simply trying to sweep it away...

Am I think too much about it? Maybe, maybe not.

But I did enjoy watching Juuni clean. There was something about it that was somewhat relaxing, as if she wasn't so angry when she did it.

Oh well.

Everyone got back soon enough, and, of course, they came with cheap pizza. You know, the kind that you get for dirt cheap, and you know you probably shouldn't eat it because you think you might see a couple hairs in it? Yeah, the kind of pizza that's made at the shop down the street, which is owned by one of our more common customers, which gets us a discount if we offer them one, too.

The pizza was soggy, the cheese probably wasn't cheese, and there were practically pools of grease everywhere, but it was fun. It felt like family - everyone there, eating pizza together, our stomachs so immune to that vomit-inducing junk we call food that we don't even pay attention to the fact that we just ingested something that probably isn't edible.

It was a good day.

And I don't know... I loved it.