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Change, Epilogue
Things worked out in the end. For a while they did, anyway.
The blonde manager and I had a falling out. You might expect that sort of thing to happen. Happens all the time. Usually doesn't involve quitting your job out of a mixture of spite and awkwardness. But hey, this time I guess it did.
Natasha and I continued to go out. Then we got really into it. We made it nine months before the collapse. Which is a bloody record as far as I'm concerned. We keep in touch every so often. She was great. And she was good for me. Brought her home to meet the parents. While she was there she took a look at Ireland. Ireland just took a look back at her and thought, "Well, young Brendy's done well for himself. Happy days."
Like everything, that ended. Blame me. I didn't muck her about or anything, if that's what you're thinking, hombre. But I did break it off. Like I said, blame me. I've been on the other side too, y'know. I recognise the lengths to which people'd go. But what's kinder? To keep on truckin' like nothing's wrong, even though you don't feel much? Or to cut it all off before things turn nasty? That's what I liked about going out with Tasha. It never really got nasty. But I've seen what time does to couples. It would have done.
I did a Masters degree. I should get my results tomorrow. I'm expecting a Merit. That's an overall score of 60-69. I studied English Literature. I wrote a lot of essays. One was about animals in circuses. I got to include lots of pictures. They say a picture speaks a thousand words. If that's true, I was over my limit by a modest 12,000 words. It served me well. I got a 74 in that one.
I started working as a Freelance Games Journalist. Because (aside from the 'Freelance' bit) that's what I want to do. I reckon I'm on the right track. I've been drafted to write some stuff for PC Gamer. In a dense, populous, concrete hive some people call "London" I tracked down some full-time game journos. They're all nice people. "The pay is atrocious," they said. "And it's unstable as fuck if you go freelance. But hey, everyone in this room got to play Brink before anyone else they know - excluding each other of course. So, there's something in it, no?" That room was in a small pub near Hampstead Heath (close to the meat!).
"And we got a free bar out of it too," they collectively added, in my airbrushed memory.
Little things happened in between. An epilogue is, by nature, an incomplete "what happened next." This is no different. An epilogue is also a goodbye. Sure, it'll always be there. You can re-read an epilogue as many times as you please. But you can't re-experience one. So, if anyone is reading (Katti, noneed, Strix, Gummo, Amanda?) savour this goodbye. You might not feel precisely this way ever again. Then again, you might feel bugger all. Oh good heavens, ARE YOU HEARTLESS!?
If you're into reading about games then you might see my name pop up in a tiny black font here and there. I keep a very infrequent "blog" here. It's more an online portfolio, to show off to publications. I also write for a website called Resolution Magazine and sometimes for another called Midlife Gamer.
I'm only a little name now, trying to earn some coins. But maybe things will Change. Maybe things will work out in the end.
END
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