POV: Ryan Hawkins
Disclaimer: This story is told entirely from my mildly delusional perspective. Expect dramatic monologues, overconfidence, and questionable life choices. Reader discretion is advised.
***
Diary Entry #0001
Date: June 02, 2023
Today, I start this diary. Not because I'm sentimental. But because… well, I might be dying. Also, I want proof I tried.
Also, a few notes, in case I forget how I write:
Italic = my thoughts (a.k.a. my brain being weird)
Bold Italic = talking (usually nonsense)
Bold = drama moments. Life is a soap opera.
[Flashback] = trauma hits. You'll know why when we get there.
This isn't a guidebook. It's just how my brain talks when no one's around.
—Ryan H.
****
My apartment smells like expired dreams and microwave noodles.
Oh right—name'sRyan Hawkins.
Welcome to my tragic comedy of a life.
My life?
Simple.
School. Home. School again.
Thenboom—existential dread.
On most days, I feel like a background character in my own movie.
Nothing too dramatic. Nothing too exciting.
Just… looping routines, microwave meals, and internal screaming.
So yeah—
Whenever I get bored, I do what every sane person does:
I count my hair.
"One, two, three… uh, is that a white hair?"
Pause.
Panic.
"Never mind. I don't understand my life."
I stared at the ceiling like it owed me answers.
Was I aging… or just emotionally decaying?
Either way—
I needed a distraction.
**✶✶✶ [5 seconds later] ✶✶*
Every time I get hungry? yah!
I sprint to the refrigerator like it owes me rent.
I fling the door open—ready to conquer.
BOOM.
Sauce. Ketchup. Mustard.
One lonely slice of cucumber in the corner, judging me silently like:
"This is all you have?"
And I whisper back,
"Oh my god—pttttt!"
**✶✶✶ [ Market ] ✶✶*
Sigh.
Cue dramatic music.
Time to go to the market.
I enter the supermarket like I'm in a movie.
That's when I see it.
A crab.
Crawling near the seafood section like it knew it was next.
I crouch down, pick it up, and whisper,
"Oh baby, why are you running? You're too pretty to be scared."
The seafood guy just stares at me like I need holy water.
Our eyes meet.
"Oh! Sorry. Hehe…"
And I walk away like I didn't just flirt with a crab in public.
**✶✶✶ [After i flirt ] ✶✶*
I swear I'm normal.
Probably.
Maybe.
Okay—no.
But honestly, I don't think anyone's normal these days.
****
Anyway, things were fine…
Until one message ruined my life.
****
It was a lazy afternoon.
I was sipping 3-in-1 coffee that tasted like betrayal,
Scrolling through social media like a WiFi-powered zombie—
watching sexy girls dance onTikTok.
For research purposes, of course.
*You know, psychological analysis... of body movements. Yeah, that.*
Then—
> A photo arrived.
I jumped—nearly spilled my coffee.
I thought it was a girl.
Sexy, maybe. A model. A muse.
Butno.
It was a pig.
Literally.
Rolling in mud like it was having a spa day.
And that's when i realized—
Destiny just roasted me with pork.
Delicious betrayal.
My brain lagged.
My stomach howled.
My hope crumbled.
Still, I kept scrolling.
Watched cat videos.
Laughed at memes like:
"POV: You have no money and no one loves you."
Cringed.
Cried.
Drank more betrayal-flavored coffee.
**✶✶✶ [Moment Later] ✶✶*
Then it came.
The message.
"Hey baby. I'm your Sugar Mommy. Willing to give you twenty-five thousand pesos monthly. Message me on KG."
My soul paused.
I blinked three times.
Whispered to myself,
"No way. Is this real life? Is this… destiny?"
I read it again.
Imagined myself rich.
Wearing designer clothes.
Eating Jollibee with my pinky finger raised.
Then she said,
"But before I send the money, send one thousand five hundred pesos first to activate the conversion fee."
My brain said,
"Wait… this feels scammy."
My wallet said,
"Twenty-five thousand. Do it."
So I did it.
I sent the money.
She blocked me.
**✶✶✶ [After the net error] ✶✶*
I stared at my phone.
My coffee was cold.
My dreams shattered like a plate in a teleserye.
No more allowance.
No more chicken.
No more gravy.
I cried.
Ugly cry.
The kind with thunder and dramatic lightning.
"Why?!"
My stomach rumbled.
My pride evaporated.
Everything hurt.
**✶✶✶ [Delulu night] ✶✶*
That night, I had a dream.
I wore a black suit.
Dark shades.
Carried a suitcase full of fake IDs and burner SIM cards.
I walked into a glowing, top-secret building.
The ANTI SCAMER DEPARTMENT
A general approached and declared:
"Recruit. Welcome to the High-Ranking Scammer Division.
Yourmission: Scam the scammers.
Motto: For the scammed, we strike back."
I saluted.
Everyone clapped.
Even the crab guy from the market was there, wiping a tear.
**✶✶✶ [Dream end] ✶✶*
Then I woke up.
Eyes wide open.
Fan spinning. World—quiet.
I closed the curtain.
Laid back on my bed.
"Tomorrow… I'll start fixing my life."
But life had other plans.
Tomorrow would hit harder than reality ever did.
> It wasn't a villain origin story.
More like a clueless boy's wake-up call.
And from there… the real story began.
[End of day 1]
****
[Thank you for reading, God bless]
Hey you, yes you—reader.
Just smile.
Life's weird, this story's weirder,
but at least we're surviving both together.