Y'know, for what's supposedly a day that marks a turning point in my life, it started out fairly normally. So normally, in fact, that while the bag with multiple pockets my mom had bought me told me that this room I'd awoken to would no longer be my living space for quite some time, I still kept almost forgetting that today was the day I'd be getting my first pokemon as I went through my usual morning procedures. I should probably consider myself lucky, though. Ages 15 through 20 don't get selected for the new wave of trainers too often at all, so the knowledge that I and a couple of my friends got in is honestly rather astonishing.
...
After pausing for a couple seconds to take everything in, I took a pretty huge breath, and my stomach began to hurt a little. What did I have to be so worried about? Oh, right, besides everything? Who do I want for a pokemon? Or moreover, will he or she want me for a trainer? How am I going to get along with other people that I don't know?
...Where am I even going...?
Just like everything else that's major and haunts my conscious whenever I have the misfortune of thinking it up, I shoved it all to the back of my mind. What control do I have over this anyway? A little, maybe, not enough for me to be worried for myself. Whatever would happen over these next couple months or years, for that matter, would happen. Strapping the backpack on for long distances and sticking on my visor (seriously, why do I feel like the only person ever who feels comfortable wearing one of these?), I walked out the door, looked back in the room, and compelled by a random urged, kissed the doorway, closed it, and walked downstairs to see my mom.

Downstairs you could find a livingroom with nice plush coaches and a TV hanging on the wall. A small doorway connected the door to the kitchen. Inside the kitchen, you could see Pseuxlc's mom cooking comthing on the stove.