OL was never my name. It was given to me as a dehumanizing title to strip my individuality away. I still remember my name— my family’s too. It’s illegal to refer to friends, family, and strangers, by their name given to them before the incident. It’s a fate to pity. I don’t remember the last time someone has called me by my true name. Names are a forgotten archive now. A Library of Alexandria. I still remember my name— most everyone does— but I’ve taught myself that such things like names and titles are less important now. I don’t think of the future or the past. I especially don’t like to think of names, but sometimes I can’t help but reminisce things. Maybe, I’d broadcast my name on a big screen when everything is all over. I sigh to myself. I live my life in a shell of irony, but some things are just inevitable. The way to the Black Market is a long one. It’s obviously prohibited. It decreases the government’s power over the economy and rations, and no governments likes their power to decrease. The Black Market is not far at all, but when you ponder on things too heavy for your heart, you lack the mindset to realize that a ten minute distant is indeed, short. The details of the Black Market are ingrained into the back of my palm. When you approach closer to the stalls, it always seems to smell heavier of soot and ash. The gravel starts to crumble louder under your feet and you always, always, feel just a little bit sadder from when you first enter. The government satiates our hunger with rations, but that’s not what we want. Delicacies like real meat and animal products are rare, while organic vegetables and fruits seem to be impossible to find. Majority of our rations are lab-grown and genetically modified and just don’t taste like home. We conform either way. I find it funny how much I dislike talking outside of the present, yet I do so often. Everyday, I find myself critiquing my habits more and more. It’s a habit of habits. My shoes tear at the seams. I’ve stressed the heel of the boots too much. I would have to ask NE to sew them back up. I don’t spend more time thinking of my shoes as I can already see the Black Market approaching the corner of my vision.
Characters and majority of the world building is owned by @kainesscanon. All writing owned by me or @retsukimaxxing on Scratch. No AI scrapping, translating, or remixing permitted. Crossposted on A03 under @malmilixx
