Something struck me today, I had an email saved in a hidden folder in my email. I noticed this after so many years. I smiled a bit, wondering what it was. Opening it, there was nothing else but a username and a password to Youtube™. I tilted my head a bit in question, but I logged in to this account. The first thing I went to was the video manager and saw a bunch of videos titled For My Future Self. I licked my dry lips, taking a sip of the cup of water next to my unoccupied hand. There were a few views, but no comments. Well, I wasn’t exactly surprised.
I scrolled down until I reached number one. Let me see what my past wanted to talk about. “Is this working?” was the first thing I said in the video.
Chuckling slightly, I continued on watching myself scrambling to the cube that I used as a chair. Looking to my left, I supposed I didn’t want to sit on the throne-looking chair and made me feel like a king… or queen to the gender concerned people. There were sloppy cuts for the awkward silence that I probably had while trying to think of what to talk about. In which case, what was this about?
“Hi, uh… my name is Ami. I’m sixteen years old, and I’m a sophomore,” was the next thing I said. “This is just a refresher for my future self because I know that I have terrible memories and I’ll watch this later on and wouldn’t know how old I was in this video.”
Huh, I knew myself so well. After the little introduction, I made comments about the sloppy ponytail I had on in the video. It was pretty sloppy, although I remembered at that age, I couldn’t tie a high ponytail. My mom tied that, I just knew it. My past self rambled on and said, “My future self” about a thousand times. After I delivered the first reason which was about keeping a journal of some sort, the second reason was what hit me.
“I wanted to talk about my first crush,” I uttered. “Just in case something bad happened and my brain decided to forget all about the incident that is to come.”
My first crush? This was interesting. I grabbed my cup and drank the remaining water. “This is pretty hard to say… it’s a girl.”
I spat it right back into the cup, looking at it disgustingly as it mixed with my saliva. I stared at the computer screen, watching myself making these weird faces. “This is going bad already, I just know it.”
Even though my past self said that, I ended up describing the girl. My first crush… I couldn’t exactly remember her name. I thought it was he, not a she. Wow, I do have terrible memories. Throughout the video, I never once mention my crush’s name. I had forgotten to do that in this video. Huh. Watching the cuts between dialogues, I noticed that I was looking down at what I guessed were topic notes. I was never good at talking on camera. My attention started to drift away as I gawked at the background.
“Jeez, that is one messy room,” I said, though not the me in the video.
“…As I try to talk to this girl.” Then the video abruptly ended.
Paging back, I looked at all the videos I made. A couple and they were uploaded about every week. I was about to click on the second one to see if I had revealed her name, but I had work. Euh, I wished I could jump inside the videos and relive my past. At least back then I didn’t have a job. Then again, it was nice living independently. There was nobody to rely on, just me.
Besides, it took me sweat and blood to be in this position. Oh, I hadn’t explained yet, huh? I worked as a scriptwriter and co-director for one of the hottest show in America. I wasn’t bragging, the statistic said it all. It was our second season, and I was being pressured on even more than usual. This was one of the reasons why I hadn’t thought of the place I lived during my high school years. I went to a university for filming. I cut off every connection I had, although I couldn’t remember why. Right now, at the age of twenty-five, I was living alone in a luxury apartment. I was paying my rent on time, and I was a respected member in the group. I wrote the script and worked it out with the actors, I helped the director, and when needed, I was a supporting actress.
My life was going well, though I knew it damn well. What comes up will come down. That was why I was saving enough money just for the downfall of this show. Then again, it would be partially my fault if it lost popularity. I shook my head, not trying to think about the negative.
Leaving my apartment which was on the second floor, I went to my car and drove to the studio. Had I mentioned that this was an animated series? My bad. The title was called, “Mordan.” The series was about a man in the name of Henry who was chosen to be the next champion in the world of gladiators. He was transported to Mordan and was immediately killed by one of the gladiators. He was sent right into a match not knowing what to do. Henry found himself in limbo and was now trapped. That was when a door appeared and he entered through it.
It was shown that his death was just a dream. Henry was taken to Mordan and that was a vision to what might happen to him later on. The people who took him in had yet to know that Henry was going to be the new champion for the tyrant king.
The villagers explained to Henry about the floating coliseum where the king host his entertainment. He abducted the sinners and put them up against each other. They were afraid, and Henry wanted to help.
Skipping a bit, toward the end of the season, he became the next champion. The second season revealed that he had turned corrupted. There was a new protagonist and Henry was now the antagonist. I thought this was an obvious turn when the director suggested it to me. The fans said otherwise. The first episode blew up as people were angry at Henry and found the new main character to be likable. I hadn’t had a name so she remained nameless.
My co-workers suggested names, in which I kindly denied.
“Ami, you got a name for her yet?” asked Matt, who greeted me the moment I entered the front door of the studio.
“I’ll think of one as long as you don’t make her gladiator outfit all skimpy. She needs armor that protects her abdomen and legs during combat.”
“She hasn’t even been in combat yet.”
“But I’ve seen your current designs.” I glared. “Are they doing any recordings today?”
“Just for the second episode’s music. We’re still stuck on the storyboard.”
“Is there anything for me to help?”
“Masaki says he’ll call you when he needs you, rather than that, you should go meet Monica. She’s eagerly waiting for your manuscript for this episode.”
“Alright, I’m off then.”
“I’ll see you in a bit.”