What if you were given a chance to relive your life again? "I would not want it." That was the quiet murmur I had. One that speaks I have gotten exhausted of living to the extent of denying every moment I have breathed. I don't particularly hate living; it's just that when I wake up I would want to sleep again right away. When I draw I will reminisce the way she has disregarded me. When I study I will be reminded how much I burned my eyebrows and sacrificed my sleep so just I could answer nothing correctly on my tests; on how much I loathed myself for being too filial, too quiet in fear that when I chatter I would only be ignored, and now, I was too used on being too quiet not finding any reason to see why I would bother express myself. Then when I bathed, I would still feel the creeping shadows of hands that touched me where they should not. I would feel dirty, and that I did not deserve to be loved by anyone because of it. And I hate myself, for crying instead of trying. If I have to relive my life again, filled with envy and dreading dreams, I would rather not exist at all. But when the devil asked me again, "Do you want to live as somebody else?" I answered, "Yes."