Three days have passed, but I still don’t know where Jacques is. He’s too hard to find and even though I contacted his sister who I found on Facegram, she doesn’t have any idea about the whereabouts of Jacques. I am in my room, facing my laptop while having dinner. I bought my dinner, which is a bowl with rice and side dishes, at the convenience store near the studio. On my third bite, something chimes. It’s a notification from my Facegram, a friend request to be precise. I didn't know the guy as well as his name, so I disregarded it and continued eating when my Facegram inbox flooded with messages. Who the hell is this guy? I opened the messages, and I was startled when he introduced himself as Jacques. Even though I don’t remember his face, I took the risk and talked to him.Jacques Joliggo:*Cai! I haven’t heard from you for the last two years.What happened?I heard you got into an accident.And you were in a state of coma after that.Do you remember me?I heard from my sister tha

After that meeting with Jacques, I became aware that I was not okay. I don’t know what to believe anymore. Myself? Or Jacques’ word? When I came back to the studio, what we had talked about flashed in my mind. It’s like a projector that has a broken remote button because it has been repeated as long as my mind is awake. I tried closing my eyes in the hope that it’d stop. I’m tired. I’m tired of everything. I wish I could travel back in time or control the time machine so that I could rewind and redo what I’ve done in the past. I feel like I've been punished for what I’ve done. Above all, why do I have this feeling that all of Jacques’ words are baseless? I mean, I nearly took his words as my truth, but I realized that it should not be. My truth is my truth. But what if I didn’t remember my truth? Would another person’s truth be considered my truth? I don’t know. I badly need a rest. In that case, I tried to relax my mind and think of happy moments to ease the tension building.“Jacque

I saw Jacques leaving the coffee shop. He looks like he’s scared and someone is threatening him. I need to find out about it. I didn’t finish my coffee and left it hanging on the table. I rushed down the alley to see where Jacques went, and thankfully, I still have a visual of him. Relax, Merchaiass. You are now one step ahead of your plan. I have followed him quietly for some time now, and he has a lot of destinations to stop at. We’ve arrived at a place where the squatters are currently residing. He stopped again, for the ninth time, in a house painted green and entered. He lasted for a few minutes before he went out of the house with different clothing and a sling bag on his shoulder. Where is he going? I can tell that he took a bath too, as his hair is damp. I don’t know if I should continue following him as the other side of my brain says to stop and go back, but the other says different. I watched him take a big step, and it seemed like he was in a hurry. I decided to trust my g

“What have you done, Jacques? When I read my diary, I thought that you were different. But, it looks like you’re much worse than those people I know.”I regretted what I had said when I saw the flashes of pain in his eyes. But I can’t take it back. What is to be done has already been done. I didn’t say much after that. I’m still preoccupied by my triggered memory from when I saw that bloody incident. It was part of the reason why I stayed still when he was dragging me out of the garage. I couldn’t believe that he did that. Yet I’m not sure if he killed his uncle with his own hands or not because my memory is cut and limited. I saw how the argument heated up, and it was cut into the scene of the lifeless body of his uncle above the ground. The scared faces of Jacques’ parents and the trembling of Jacques’ hands. I don’t know if I was there, but it felt like I witnessed everything. I remember how Jacques went to me and told me everything about what happened that night. I can’t remember

I was surrounded by some unknown people in my life, but because they told me about the dean, I have a vague idea of who they are. I had somewhat heard about them because of my blockmates who are always talking about the issue here at the university. In other words, they are the source of the issues circulating here. My head throbbed when some girl used a stick to smack my head off. Wow. What a nice hit. I can feel the blood rushing in my face, but my sight is still clear. I didn’t see any remorse on their faces, but instead they looked joyous when they saw that I was hurt by their doings. A random guy spit on my face, and it made me laugh. I played with my tongue inside of my mouth while looking at that guy. I slowly smiled and teased him more. I want to know how far their anger can go so that I will know when it is the right time to escape. I don’t know, but I feel like I’m starting to change. I was not like the “afraid Merchaiass” when I was in grade school up until my first days in