#pi:ask

•｡ ღ “𝓘 like to believe that there is not an afterlife for when we are born,” Sofia contemplated the question of life after death - an inquisition with weight and gravity that went beyond the realm of tangibility or simplicity. “I am uncertain that everyone knows what occurs after, but if it is a hellish place like it has been described before... where you can reunite with lost hated ones... then, I see it as a tragic place. What is most important, though, is to die in the moment.”

•｡ ✩ “Yeah, I do wanna change the world! ✩” Rock confessed proudly, pumping his fist into the air; however, when he wished to elaborate further on his desire to change the world, nothing honestly came to mind. He paused with his enthusiasm and thought about what he would change - and how. By no means was he the hero in this story… rather, he was a side character that oftentimes outshined the main character. “But, instead… I sleep.”

•｡ ✩ “Dad…” Rock wondered about his family - where in the world they were and how they were faring overseas; nevertheless, no matter how much he imagined them to be, the picture was clear - the look of disappointment and disgrace drawn in his features. He and his adoptive father held two different perspectives about who he was to become - and that was the driving force that split them apart in his later teen years, but he still liked to think that they were in a good place… as good as it can be. “He’s my old man! I love the guy. I… miss him too.” What would he think of Rock now?

•｡ ✩ “Aw man, my mom…” Rock rested his chin in his hand and hummed thoughtfully while the image of his adoptive mother, Ruby, appeared in his mind. He envisioned what her face would convey in response to who he was now - a person who has grown since his younger years, prior to his parents’ departure on their gallivanting around the world; still, he almost forgot what his mother sounded like. “I love her. I miss her, but I know she is seeing so much out there with my dad. Her cooking was the bomb. ✩” 

•｡ ♡ “Wishing on a shooting star?” He repeated the question with a hint of a smirk appearing on the edge of his lips. It almost made him laugh aloud, thinking back to him and his sister searching for shooting stars outside in the open and wide fields nearby their house - and he had wished upon a star once. And that once made the difference with how he felt about wishes. “I don’t really know what I would wish for, to be honest. Aren’t you not supposed to say it so that it will come true? ♪” In the back of his mind, though, he knew what he would wish for… to make up all of the mistakes he made with the people he holds near and dear to his heart… and be the man that they wanted him to be. But that was impossible. 

•｡ ♡ “I honestly don’t pay that much attention to flowers,” he contemplates, “but if it looks nice, then it looks nice! When I went to the most recent festival, I just picked out a tie and outfit that looked like it worked well together.” He excludes the fact that he called his mom and sister to seek their guidance on piecing together his formal attire. “I will say that there is one flower that I really like: Forget-Me-Not flowers. There is something about it…” Jack reflects on his past and the symbolism that the flower held in respect to his experiences with his dad, his sister, his mom, his friends… but that would be a story for another time. “Memories. That’s why I like it so much. Aren’t they pretty, too? ♪”

•｡ ♡ “Twins means that I share my birthday with Jill, which is awesome! – but since we have grown up and aren’t together as often,” his smile wavered, “it isn’t as huge of a deal to me to celebrate my birthday. If anything, I care more that I celebrate Jill because… well, I could go on and on, but I love her. She deserves it.” Jack has been on Arcadia for a couple of years now, and as each year passes, he sends a text or calls Jill to wish her a happy birthday - but he doesn’t mention it here. It is what it is, for him.

•｡ ♡ Jack sighed, casting a sorrow gaze into the distance - reminiscing on the good memories he had with his father; albeit, there seemed to be more bittersweet memories toward the end than earlier in his youth. “My father…” His thoughts scurried to string together the words to convey appropriately what his relationship with his father was. It hurt him that there was no mending it at this point, but he lived with it. “He was a good man. He cared for his family, and even though he and I had our differences… I loved him. That’s all there is to it.” He swallowed, brushing off the lingering image of his father that brought tears to his eyes.