บททั้งหมดของ Stranded in Thoughts: บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 10

I hated schools the most.I’d been having the most splendid dream about my crush—hands down the most beautiful girl in that boring school—when an earthquake jolted me awake. It wasn’t a destructive one, but it was enough to spring me out of bed and make my knees wobble.Earthquakes had been happening a lot recently here in Cebu.They made me anxious, which wasn’t surprising since I always had a knack for overthinking. A paranoid part of me had always feared the world might end at any moment. Combined with being overly sentimental and sensitive, it painted a pretty accurate picture of who I was. People could have judged me, but really, they couldn’t. They hadn’t lived my life, so how could they?If you did know me, though, there was one thing you’d always remember: I was lazy. Proudly, undeniably lazy. Procrastination was practically my trademark. It was a title I had begrudgingly earned and somewhat embraced. My friends, of course, capitalized on it by calling me Josh the Lazy Bum. I d

Mondays. Freaking Mondays. Why were Mondays even created?The sizzling of onions sautéing and the birds chirping outside our apartment brought a calming effect as I cooked breakfast in our makeshift kitchen. Yet the fact that it was a Monday drowned all of it.I hated Mondays most.Some might say that being a teacher was an easy job. According to certain self-important people, we were just teaching students. One of my students even said we were lucky since we only needed to sit to get paid. The audacity of that child made me mad, but I kept my cool and let it slide. After all, I was a licensed professional. So, I acted professionally.They were wrong.I might be too lazy to explain it all, but I knew how it worked. They didn’t see a teacher’s schedule. Imagine bringing home piles of paperwork just to finish them—work supposedly done during an eight-hour shift that was never feasible.And Monday was the worst of all.I was about to pour last night’s rice when a rustle behind startled me

Fridays. Blessed Fridays.Why couldn’t all days in a week feel like Fridays?The day of the retreat finally came. I’d been waiting for this, longing for a break, a chance to return to Bantayan and finally explore the beaches I’d dreamed of visiting for so long. Plans broke apart before, thanks to tight schedules and unreliable friends. I loved traveling, but the thought of going alone felt… hollow. I needed company, someone to share the experience with or make the moments feel alive.The audio-visual room buzzed quietly as teachers gathered for our final pre-departure briefing. The school bus was scheduled to pick us up at five, taking us on a four to five-hour journey to Hagnaya Port where we’d board the barge to Bantayan. Student council officers were already set—bags packed and consent forms signed.Yet the weight of responsibility pressed on my shoulders. Monitoring the students’ safety wasn’t something I could take lightly.Including Finlay. Especially Finlay.The AVR wasn’t spaci

My head throbbed with pain.The world around me was a blur, and standing felt nearly impossible. A relentless ringing filled my ears as if sound itself had torn through me. I had the sickening sense that blood might be flowing from them. Leaning sideways on my right arm, I reached up with my left to check my head for injuries.It hurt.As I shifted, discomfort flared in my lower body. Something heavy pinned me down. No—someone.And it hurt.I blinked hard, shaking my head to clear the haze. Gradually, my vision sharpened, and the first thing I noticed was the overwhelming blueness of everything around me.The figure sprawled limply across my legs was Finlay. His disheveled black bangs clung to his pale forehead, framing a face too striking for its own good—wide eyelids, a broad nose, well-shaped lips, and a firm jaw. I never felt so annoyed at a handsome face before.Then, everything came rushing back.The pieces of memory slammed together—sharp, painful, undeniable. Concern twisted in

This might be some kind of mistake. Or a dream.The behemoth just five meters ahead of us—the one we found unrealistic—was a dilapidated edifice stretching from one side of the woods to the other. We couldn’t see the far end as it was heavily enshrouded by coconut-looking trees, which we all agreed to call “cocohair trees,” visible through the windows and cracks. Yet memory-wise, we might know how massive it was.The cry we heard—and still ongoing—came from a fire alarm. It was still functional and noisy despite the building’s condition.I was about to warn everyone to be cautious when Chevonne, once again, sprinted toward the main facade, entering through the wide-open entrance. Shards of glass littered the threshold where doors should have been. We followed her quickly to avoid losing sight of her.The sound finally ceased. She must have turned it off already.We tiptoed inside, awestruck as we crossed the main gate—ironically, without gates—and proceeded through the entrance with ca