“Now I'd like someone to tell me there is no drama in real life!”
Seeing as the others have done an intro, I guess I should too. I've never really done this before, so bear with me. The name's Albert, if you hadn't already worked that out. Though I guess calling me Al is fine too. What is a name anyway, if not a pack of lies and secrets created by man?
So what do I actually do? How did I get here? It's a long story, that doesn't really need telling. I've been at the hostel a bit over 2 years now. At least I think it’s been that long. I came across it one day on my travels. I call them travels, but it was mostly running my heels off, and finding the place out of the blue. I can't remember the exact details of how I ended up here. I found the place, and stuck about to help others begin to help themselves. That's the gist of it.
I do some of the odd jobs about the hostel to pay my way. Fix the wires; mend the pipes; guard the place if needed. Mostly the sort of stuff that needs doing, but nobody ever gets around to. I'm normally a night owl as well, keeping an eye on the people lodging here. My paranoid justification in doing so is just to make sure they're not sided with any of the Misery-Makers. They tend to stalk the night, and use it to their advantage. Mostly though, I just lend an ear to those that can't sleep, and listen to the stories they tell. Some times they ask me to remember their tales, and tell them to others. So I do. I remember for them, in case they ever forget.
It helps to distract me, and reminds me to live in the now, rather than the past. It fuels my reason for living, and reminds me why I'm still alive. That's all I have to say really.
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