I slam the car door shut behind me. I can't think; I don't dare think. If I
do, it'll only make it worse for myself.
My friends can't see behind my smile, and I turn away before the tears spill. "I have allergies," I say quickly. That wasn't me holding the knife to my wrist the night before. No.
It was you who stopped me. Maybe there is some good worth living for, you tell me. The television. Amazing how it can both cause moral decline and hope. . .
But you were wrong, weren't you? There's no good anywhere. No one is like you. You're brave, quick-witted. You'll always protect those you love, just like me.
But you're not real.
Pathetic, isn't it? You exist only on the television screen and in my mind. I can see you as clearly as I can see everyone else around me. I had no future before I saw anime. Maybe to some it's just cheap entertainment, but for me, it's a future, a hope to hold on to. . .
What else would I hold on to? My friends just don't know. My family doesn't care. You. . . You don't exist. No matter how I wish it were differently.
I worry about what I might've done last night as I walk through the hallway, but I can see why it was so close. I'm surrounded by stupidity, by the superficial young people all around. I hate them. They are only concerned with fads, not with what lasts. Drugs, alcohol, sex. . . It can't be what life is really about.
You saved me from ending it. Was it a good thing? I see in myself what I hate in these people. I hope I value the lasting more than the evanescent material things. You're everlasting. You were drawn from their mind onto paper, in permanent ink, just as you were engraved in my thoughts. You'll never change. How could you?
You're not real.
I wish I had you to hold onto, but I know in the back of my mind that it's impossible. I'll keep searching, and every night I'll wish on the Stars of Suzaku, your stars, for a miracle.
My friends can't see behind my smile, and I turn away before the tears spill. "I have allergies," I say quickly. That wasn't me holding the knife to my wrist the night before. No.
It was you who stopped me. Maybe there is some good worth living for, you tell me. The television. Amazing how it can both cause moral decline and hope. . .
But you were wrong, weren't you? There's no good anywhere. No one is like you. You're brave, quick-witted. You'll always protect those you love, just like me.
But you're not real.
Pathetic, isn't it? You exist only on the television screen and in my mind. I can see you as clearly as I can see everyone else around me. I had no future before I saw anime. Maybe to some it's just cheap entertainment, but for me, it's a future, a hope to hold on to. . .
What else would I hold on to? My friends just don't know. My family doesn't care. You. . . You don't exist. No matter how I wish it were differently.
I worry about what I might've done last night as I walk through the hallway, but I can see why it was so close. I'm surrounded by stupidity, by the superficial young people all around. I hate them. They are only concerned with fads, not with what lasts. Drugs, alcohol, sex. . . It can't be what life is really about.
You saved me from ending it. Was it a good thing? I see in myself what I hate in these people. I hope I value the lasting more than the evanescent material things. You're everlasting. You were drawn from their mind onto paper, in permanent ink, just as you were engraved in my thoughts. You'll never change. How could you?
You're not real.
I wish I had you to hold onto, but I know in the back of my mind that it's impossible. I'll keep searching, and every night I'll wish on the Stars of Suzaku, your stars, for a miracle.