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.
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.
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.
You suffered a great deal.