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I was broken from the inside. The depression slowly chipped me away, finally devouring me. I could not beat the negativity. I hated myself. Even though I tried so hard demanding my memories that kept getting cut off to 'wake up,' all I got in return was silence. I'd rather stop if I cannot breathe. I asked who could be responsible for me. You're the only one. I felt utterly alone. It is easy to say "I'm going to end it." It is very difficult to actually go through with it. I've been struggling through the difficulty. I told myself that it's just me wanting to run away from everything. It's true. I really did want to run away. From me. From you. I asked, "Who's there?" It's me. It's me again. And it's me the third time. I asked, "Why do I keep on losing my memory?" They said it's due to my personality. I see. It's all my fault. I wanted someone to notice (my suffering), but no one knew. Of course, they wouldn't. They never met me before. I asked why people live. Just. Just. They live "just because." If I ask why people died, they would probably say they couldn't bear it any longer. Troubling thoughts flooded my head. I never got the chance to learn how to change dull pain into pure joy. Pain is just pain.
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I kept reprimanding myself not to do so. Why? Why can't I even end my life with my own will? I tried figuring out the reasons for my pain and suffering. I already had the answer. I was in pain because of me. It's all my fault that I carry so many imperfections. Teacher, is this what you wanted to hear? No. I didn't do anything wrong. I used to think that it's so easy for doctors to blame your personality for the suffering in their calm voice. It surprises me how I am feeling this much pain. Those people, who have suffered worse than I, seem to go on living perfectly fine. Those weaker than I am live on as well. I guess not. Among the living, there is no one who is suffering worse and no one who is weaker. The only answer I got back was "just live nevertheless." Asking the purpose of life more than one hundred times is not for me. It's for you. I wanted to do it for me. Please don't say things you don't know. How could you ask me to still look for reasons behind my pain? I told you multiple times why I'm suffering. Do I need more reasons to be in pain? More dramatic details in my stories? More stories even? I told you already. Were you absent-minded when I told you? Things you can bear and even come above do not leave scars. It wasn't my responsibility to go against the world. It wasn't my path to become world-famous. That's why they say it's hard to go against the world and to become famous. Why did I choose this path? It's quite funny now that I think about it. It's a miracle that I endured through it all this time. What more can I say. Just tell me "good job." You did great. Tell me I suffered enough. Even though you can't laugh right now, just don't send me off blaming me. Good job. You suffered a great deal. Good-bye.
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