ALBAPRAMENT // {d4/fin}

My mother calls me Albaprament, because her father was named Alba, and she really likes mint because it's refreshing, but most people call me Alba or Bap, since it's a whole lot easier than all four syllables. One of my brothers call me jolly, since the optimistic side is where I'm at, but that's still easier to rhyme with. I tried to get people to refer to me by mint once too, but I gave up since some people started to just call me pepper and sneezes are not my friend. Although, Mother still calls me Lionel, my middle name, even though she gave me a first name for a reason, but arguing with a mom is just wrong, so I'd rather not. My mind may not always be on point, but morals can't be forgotten, or else you could die, and I don't have enough time for that.

Technically, nobody has time for dying; not my mother, or my youngest brother, Luffie, or any of my other brothers, or my father who left us as a kid. On the other hand, nobody has enough time for technicalities, since living on what could happen is pointless, when you don't make it happen. That's why living in the moment is essential, because if you plan on beat-boxing five minutes from now, that's five minutes you wasted of your life not beat-boxing, and that isn't acceptable. Especially if your internal life clock machine is cut in half by leukemia, then you have to make up everything you might miss once it runs out.

When I was a child, my mother always said I was going to live forever with her and my brothers, because we were Rivers, and Rivers can't be stopped, they just keep flowing. Both me and Luffie believed it, every minute of our lives, until the day my timer got set by some doctor. Supposedly, my life can continue for five years as long as I take medicine my mother can barely afford, even with the three jobs she holds down, but I don't believe them. See, I got a plan, as long as I don't think I'll die, my life won't end, because willpower.

Willpower is the key to a lot of things actually, living, dying, beat boxing, Luffie crying into mother's dress because of me and Barna's, my oldest brother, arguing. Technically, if he hadn't of stole my harmonica, we wouldn't have fought, but there's no time for technicalities so I can't be mad at him forever, since forever is only five more years. None of my other brothers and I argue as much as us two though, in fact, me and Luffie are closer than most any two people I know. His real name is Luffion, but it's easier to rhyme with other words if it ends in -ie, plus it gets shorten a syllable which is easier on the tongue.

Simplifying everything isn't the goal of life however, I play life on difficult, since it isn't about flying through it but enjoying it and the moments. My grandfather knew that, because he lived every moment through of all his eight thousand, six hundred and two years, with his dyslexia, which turns out to be hereditary. Many things are hereditary though, like my large ears I got from him, and the blonde color of my hair that my mom shares. Mother often goes on and on about how much I look like my father, the same dark eyes and small nose, with his stunted growth and rowdy hair, but Luffie has the same large hair as me, and almost all six of us have the same inky eyes. On the other hand, my grandpa always tells me how much I look like his daughter, with pygmy teeth and eyebrows too thin to be apparent.

Agreeing with my grandpa's comparison of me and my mom is easy, since I see my mom at least every day, but the only photo of my father is a black and white photo of him and my mother at their prom. I only know this because my grandma always retells the tale of how my mom knocked over the punch bowl onto herself and had to take her photo in it, but hey, at least she smelled nice. Besides, I don't believe I look as much like him as my mother says, since he had the fancy, mysterious love interest look, like the guys in moveis, and my chubby cheeks and muscle-less arms aren't in that category, you know. The photo is wore down anyways, like the roots of my hair from all the different dyes that took place in it, but it's better place for it than hidden under Barna's bed. It's unfair, all the things he keeps down there though; gummy worms, hair dyes, fishing rods, cherry tomatoes, plastic eggs, small puzzles, it's like he wants me to not have fun by hiding all that away from me.

I mean, I'm not entirely sure if all of that is under his bed, considering I've never actually seen where he keeps everything he takes, but those are just a few of the things I've seen him take, at least. It's kind of strange how we have the same skinny hands and slender fingers, yet he's so much better at taking things than me. The only time I ever tried to steal something was a sandwich from a food cart, but I got caught before I was even close to getting away. Stealing is wrong, of course, so that's why I only did it once, because I didn't want to die.

Without morals, you can't get anywhere in life, and I want to try everything at least once; sailing, cooking, being a leader, serving, astronomy, everything. If my math is right, (which is should be, most people say I'm not the smartest but I believe I am, so I have to be) I can get a job approximately, soon, and I want a hand at every single one. I want to be a sailor, and a mathematician, and a blacksmith, and a fisher, and a musician and a victor, and to retire by the time I'm 21 so I can retire happily, because I'm a River, and Rivers can't be stopped.