Knife

Prologue

I once wished for a perfect life. I would be famous, liked by everyone, and filthy rich. I'd make life perfect for everyone. We'd have world peace, and wars would be gone from the world from that moment on. Everyone would be happy. There would be nothing but prospering countries.

How strange that perfection was never what it seemed.

When reaching for a dream, steps must be taken. Losing sight of the goal is death. Each step, with more effort, only got me a tiny bit further. Eventually, putting in effort seemed like lifting chunks of lead. My goal was slipping from me. Naïvety was what put it in front of me, yet it was stopping me from reaching it. I wasn't a noble person after all. I was selfish. I didn't care about anyone but myself. I needed other people, but I didn't want them. Pay attention to me, I'd always think, but I always told myself I didn't want their attention.

Who knew what perfection was.

My mind was screwed up. My life was screwed up. I was screwed up. I didn't know what to do anymore. I didn't know how to fix myself. Everything was screwed up, messed up beyond repair. It was broken, unfixable. How do I keep going? I wanted to give up. I'm so sorry, everyone. Sorry for everything.

I looked down at the dagger hilt in my hands, scarring my skin. I let the warm blood run down my body, creating a thin, comfortable blanket. I wasn't scared of this anymore. My life has no more meaning. What's the point of fighting anymore? The dagger was my last resort, but the one that had to work. I lifted it up, all the while feeling the pound of my chest. I smiled through my tears. Good job, heart, for working to the best of your ability to the very end. I feared nothing in this moment.

I will not hesitate. I am not scared. I took in a deep breath. The last breath. I plunged the knife in.

***

Is this death? It's a strange sight, white light wrapping itself around me and warming me up. It's almost enough to make me regret my suicide. No. There was nothing left for you in that world anymore. You regret nothing. I calm myself down. That's right. Nothing was left for me in that world. Regret for leaving it is nothing but a mere illusion. Think clearly. Remember why you had to leave. I do. I left because nobody liked me anymore. Anything I forced upon them made me feel nothing but regret and remorse.

Why couldn't I just do something right? I don't know. I don't know why that world was so terrible, so messed up. If anything, I bet the creator of that world was a cruel, sadistic being. Why else would they put so much terror and hate and evil in a single place, other than to make the beings in it suffer so they could laugh? Why were they so evil? I could almost smile at the absurdity of the world they had created. Well, it's all gone now, evil being. Try to bring it back, bring me back, and it will simply be gone again.

I will destroy it all by myself again.

Everything the sadist you tries to do for your own twisted sense of humor shall be abolished by me. Every last thing you try, every last tactic you employ. It will fall by my hands. I don't want anyone to fall because of anything more.

Because I can't let anyone fall because of me anymore.

It's all my fault.

All of it.

I'm so, so, sorry.

Everyone.