Zephael

this will be my only safe place to let everything out, huh? when i die, i suppose this will be the only thing that reminds people that i exist. or perhaps they'll forget about it soon enough. being forgotten wouldnt sound too bad either. ive always wished to be wiped off from everyone's memory, didnt i? this is a cruel joke.

it feels as if my chest is being cut open for my heart to bleed.

i am afraid. i am afraid of what i will become. i am afraid of what i will have to face. i am afraid of what i have to survive. with all that said, living feels undeniably impossible.

i've always considered that the most cruel thing i could've done to someone was to take away their freedom to choose, it shows how my freedom had always been taken away without my will, no?
          
          cruelty really is a joke. a familiar, aching jest. what differences do i have with a corpse, then?

to be understood by one is enough. perhaps that has always been my reason to live.

breathing on itself truly is a luxury, isn't it?

I truly wonder why people have the need to press on further. Isn't it enough that I'm still breathing at all? My death has nothing to do with your presence.

humans are truly horrific.

I just know that she's slowly slipping away. But I shouldn't be too devastated, people are not meant to be owned. Am I attached? That can't be it either. I shouldn't. I'm just doing my responsibility as a friend, to grief for her once she passes.

Yes, yes. I'm conflicted. I'm preparing myself for the bad news, so what of it? Life is merely a cycle, no? It's to be expected. My grief will haunt me again and again. This time, that person is not even dead yet— so I have to keep face. Until she let out her last breath.