Why R U ? (SaifahxZon) (Eng) intro

 

    

 

Everyone has a dream.

 

I have one too ... But how many people can make their dreams come true?

 

Surely someone succeeds ... But certainly not me.

 

I'm not even close to the word 'success'.

 

My dream is not excessive, like becoming an astronaut and traveling in space; my dream, when compared to that of others, may seem ordinary.

 

Yes, I want to become a writer.

 

A writer who doesn't have to be popular or have as many fans as others, I only ask to be published by a publishing house and see my story in the bookstores. This alone would suffice.

 

But as they like to say ... The damned reality always row against us.

 

Like the comment I have here, which makes more or less:

 

"What the hell did I just read? It sucks ..."

 

"Does it suck? My story sucks? But do you at least know what you're talking about? Fuck you! It doesn't have a modicum of intelligence and it insults other people's stories!"

 

It is not the first time that I have read similar comments and that I have to face anything that hurts my ego. But it's fine. I think the second one will be better.

 

"This Sci-Fi story doesn't have the slightest sense of reality. It doesn't make any sense!"

 

"What the hell ...! Fuck you! Since there must be a sense in a science fiction story? If you care so much about making sense, why don't you study philosophy or a book of monks ?! Assholes! You don't have to read science fiction!"

 

Well, I understand that everyone has their own tastes, but hell. I can't help but feel bad at the thought of these types of people.

 

Maybe it's because of my expectations, which disappoint me.

 

But isn't there a human being somewhere who has no hope? If I stopped hoping now, I would be done.

 

"Sigh", exhausted sigh.

 

Suddenly, the idea of stopping writing comes back to me. It didn't happen two or three times, it's always like that when he sees comments that hurt him.

 

In the end, I don't know what to do and I just wearily lean against the back of the chair.

 

I stare at the empty laptop in front of me. Inside my head there are a myriad of ideas that collide with each other until everything is confused.

 

"Would I do well to stop writing?"

 

'There is no way you can beat me!'

 

'Giving up doesn't sound much better, P'Zon.'

 

Here ... Every time he thinks of giving up, someone's words return to influence him ...

 

Ai Sol, the younger sister who is successful with his novels even though he started writing one long after him.

 

"Power!" I take courage by pulling on the cheeks to recover. "Don't get down, Ai Zon!"

 

He kept muttering.

 

"Don't you see it, Ai Zon? How many books have been published? You can't be discouraged about this ... Absolutely not! You can't ..."

 

"P'Zon !!"

 

The door opens wide.

 

A voice calls me from the doorway and that person enters the room. The noise makes me fall from the chair I was rocking on.

 

Fuck, how bad ...

 

"What's going on? Why are you sitting there?" Ai Sol doesn't really ask, because the laughter that accompanies the question makes me understand that he is enjoying the sight of Zon on the ground.

 

 

    

 

"Nothing." I deny and immediately jump to my feet even though I would like to go to her and punch her in the head.

 

Anyway, I finally settle the chair and sit as before.

 

That big brother image isn't that great, but she supports me.

 

"What's going on, Ai Sol? Why didn't you knock before entering? What would you have done if you had been naked?"

 

"That's your responsibility! You have to lock the door, don't you?"

 

Since I have a sister of the cabbage who answers me for the rhymes, I have the constant desire to be an only child.

 

"What have you done, P'Zon? Can I know it?" Ai Sol asks tilting his head and stealing a glance at my computer. In other words, she is good at getting other people's facts.

 

"I'm sure! You're watching porn!"

 

"Don't bother me!" In a hurry, I close the laptop as soon as my sister takes a step closer.

 

To be honest, I don't want the sister to get involved in my story. I'm not sure why: maybe it's not as good as his, so I don't want her to interfere.

 

"I don't want to bother you, really ..." Ai Sol murmurs to herself more than to me. "So ... have you finished your novel?"

 

"Not yet."

 

"..."

 

"..." The silence starts to fall again. When we talk about my novel there is always a tense atmosphere like now.

 

"Come on, P'Zon. Get it all done!"

 

"Er ..."

 

"But, if you really can't make it, then you can stop writing. And for the bet ..."

 

"That's enough, Sol."

 

"But I'm serious, P'Zon. If it's ..."

 

"I won't quit!"

 

Although at the beginning I had decided to seriously return to writing because of the bet with Ai Sol - which concerns the visualizations - I don't know anymore.

 

I feel that personal success is much more important than visualizations.

 

But if one day I decide to stop writing for real, I hope the decision comes from myself, and not because of someone else's words.

 

"Okay, I understand. It was just a suggestion, nothing else."

 

"Mh." Zon nods slowly and turns back to my little sister. "Anyway, why were you looking for me?"

 

"Oh, I was forgetting about it! Mom and Dad asked to tell you to get off."

 

"What happens?"

 

"I don't know. But Dad's face doesn't promise anything good."

 

"How bad is it?" I don't remember doing anything that made Dad mad.

 

"Well, it was just that. I just had to tell you to get off quickly."

 

"Er, ok, I'm going down immediately."

 

"Okay. Then I'll go. Good luck, P'Zon."

 

"Yes, yes," he replies softly when he sees that Ai Sol has left the room.

 

I open the laptop and look at the Word file which contains no more than ten words.

 

It is the file of a story that I started to write but I was unable to finish. I actually wrote other stories before this, but I couldn't finish one. When I have a block, I stop writing and give up. But as soon as an idea or plot passes through my head, I always start a new story.

 

 

 

 

 

This is the difference between me and Ai Sol. She prefers to start and end a story while I, if I can't write anymore, opt to start a new one.

 

Just a loser.

 

"(sigh) Come on ..."

 

Do your best, Ai Zon , I say to myself as I close the laptop again before I go down to find Dad, who is waiting for me.

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

I go down to the ground floor. There is only silence and I see mom and dad sitting at the table in the dining room. The scene worries me, I have no idea what happened.

 

"Why do you all seem so tense?"

 

"Zon, sit down," Mom says to me, pointing to the chair in front of her. After sitting down, I notice some documents placed right in front of me.

 

Holy ..! These are the results of the last semester! How did they get it? I didn't tell him the password ... right?

 

"When did you think you could tell us about these scores?"

 

I find it difficult to swallow saliva but I try to behave well in front of the tiger.

 

"Do you have a password for my account, dad?"

 

"You gave it to me once," Mum replies.

 

"Oh? Really? I forgot about it." I reply cheerfully, almost jokingly, but it seems to have no effect.

 

"Come on, it's not so terrible. No, dad?"

 

"..."

 

Neither mom nor dad say anything, but I can't escape the pressure of their looks.

 

"Is it so terrible?"

 

"Do you think a terrible score is only 2.1?" Mum asks me with a tone of disappointment.

 

"Just before I get a notice letter."

 

"I'm sorry," I reply feeling guilty, which can also be seen on my face.

 

"For this semester I promise to study and will never take similar grades again."

 

"You won't take similar marks ... Exactly how much will you take?"

 

"2.5 can it be good for you?"

 

"Mh ... I remember you took more than that. No?"

 

"So 2.6."

 

"..."

 

"If that's not even right, tell me how much you want."

    

 

 

"I want it to reach 3," says the mother.

 

"Hey, mom. Anything else? I can get to 2.75, okay?"

 

"..."

 

"Okay, 3. I can absolutely do it ..."

 

"Then try to get it this time."

 

"I can do it. So ... If you have nothing more to say, I would like to go back to my room."

 

Zon cuts as if wanting to end the conversation but the father calls him before he gets up.

 

"Wait, Zon. I'm not done."

 

"Is there any other problem?"

 

"Your grades are one thing, but there's another question I'd like to talk to you about: the novel."

 

"..."

 

"I want you to stop writing those novels and take advantage of that time to study. Wouldn't it be better? Your grades fell because you spent a lot of time writing those crazy novels. That's all."

 

It is the first time that the father names my stories. He also called them "crazy novels".

 

"But I like them ... I remember when you and Mom told me that you would support me, to do what I preferred. One thing I like to do and you don't agree. Why can Ai Sol write?"

 

"Zon, take a look at your grades, how they collapsed. Take your sister as an example ... Her grades had no problem."

 

In the end it's always the same story, he likes to compare me to my sister. She is one of those that whatever she does, she always gets success.

 

"Sol has already shown us that he is able to do what he wants without affecting his studies."

True. Ai Sol's grades are so high that when it's time to show them to mom they are like a knife that I would like to stick in my chest when I see them.

 

"In addition, there is also a publishing house to contact, while you have done what you love but besides making mistakes, your grades have dropped. If you continue like this, it doesn't suit me."

 

The question of marks doesn't hurt me as much as talking about the novels that Ai Sol can publish.

 

"But..."

 

"Nothing but. I said you have to stop writing those novels."

 

"Pope!" The boy shouts at his father, who is now getting up. It is certain that the father will not listen to him.

 

No matter how many explanations I bring, my father would not listen anyway.

 

What remains now is only one person sitting in front of me, who makes me hope that she could understand me .

 

Just a little would be nice.

 

"Try thinking about what I said, please. If you think about it, what we said is right, isn't it?"

 

The moment Mom stops talking, I realize that nobody understands me.

 

Nobody.