Arthur's life hadn't been anything special. He was just a regular guy—someone who drifted through the world without much direction, like he was meant to live an ordinary life without any big achievements. He'd graduated from a typical, forgettable high school. Like most people, he had a few friends, got decent grades, and played video games. His school years passed by slowly, quietly, without much to define them.
Then, about eight months after graduation, things started to feel heavier. Arthur felt completely lost. He'd never really thought about what it meant to grow up—not until he was staring it in the face. The pressure to take responsibility, to be independent, to figure out what came next—it all crept in and settled like a weight on his chest. Life felt dull and uncertain. He was stuck at home with a family who cared about him, but even they couldn't tell him what to do with his future. That was something he had to figure out on his own. And honestly, he didn't even know where to begin.
Days blended together. Arthur would wake up late, stare at the ceiling for a while, then scroll through his phone until his eyes hurt. There was no routine—just passing time. He'd sometimes go for a walk around the neighborhood, earbuds in, music up, trying to quiet the constant hum of "what now?" in his head.
His friends had started to drift off in different directions. College, jobs, moving out—doing things that, on paper, made sense. But Arthur couldn't bring himself to follow. The idea of picking a major or applying for a job felt like choosing something blindly and hoping it wouldn't ruin him later. Nothing felt right. Nothing felt like his thing.