Disclaimer: I do not own "Mahou Tsukai Tai" or any of its characters.
"Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry
And lose the name of action."
- Hamlet, Act III, Scene I, "Hamlet"
Lose the Name of Action
chapter six: "what dreams may come"
Why does it hurt? Why does it hurt to live? Why does it hurt to love? I can't understand. Isn't love supposed to be something that's beautiful? Isn't love supposed to make life wonderful? If that's so, then why does it break me in half to think about?
How hard is it to be able to get away? Away from the pain, the loneliness, the everything. I just wanted a break, a chance to rest. Just some sleep.
Would they care if I feel asleep and never woke up again?
Probably not.
I couldn't stand to think. I didn't want to think. And yet, a flow of thoughts flooded my mind. I couldn't stop thinking.
I needed to write my thoughts down in a letter to Takeo. I wanted him to know. I wanted him to know how much I cared for him and how much he had ruined me. I didn't blame him, though. I know I didn't blame him.
Actually, I wasn't too sure who I blamed.
It didn't make a difference.
Nothing did.
I shivered. Out of habit, I crossed my arms tightly around my body. What did it matter how cold I was? There was no one to warm me up, why was I worrying about heat? I had no one to offer me any. What was the point of wanting something I couldn't have?
"But I'm used to that, aren't I?" I mumbled angrily under my breath.
I felt sick.
I picked up my pace and jogged all the way back to my house. It had begun to rain by the time I got to my front door. The weather was perfect for my mood. It always seemed that way. Every time I felt horrible, there was a storm. Must just be another way to mock me. "Oh look, Aya, this is how the world views you: a sobbing thing that ruins everything."
Stop thinking. Save it for the letter. Save it for Takeo.
I was soaked when I opened my front door and stepped inside. I threw off my shoes and stumbled into the kitchen, slipping on the wooden floor and almost crashing into the table. I found my way to the desk near the refrigerator and tore open the drawers. Paper and a pen. Those were the tools necessary to be able to completely open myself up to the world. Easy, right? It was so easy to tell the world exactly what I was thinking and feeling. All I had to do was to write the words that have been running through my head for the past two years.
Paper and pen in hand, I sat down at the kitchen table. Water was still dripping from my clothes; it had rained that hard in that small amount of time. The weather could be amazing at times.
I paused, pen in hand.
The world could be amazing. There were so many wonderful things that it could offer. So many things that humans have built that were beautiful enough to rival nature's creations. Art, music, writings, and more. It was all wonderful. The theatre—wonderful. Paintings—wonderful. And humans themselves. For as many bad traits that we have there is another to confront it. A bad singing voice is cancelled out by a great sense of humor. People could be wonderful. People could be beautiful. In my mind, I knew that everyone had some good trait to him or her. Everyone could create something beautiful. Everyone could make something worthwhile.
But in my heart I could not make myself care.
When had I become this hopelessly lost in depression? When did it start? I thought for a moment, my fingers aching with pain to scribble frantic thoughts onto the paper in front of me. After a few moments, I realized that I couldn't remember not having the looming feeling of hopelessness. I had never been truly happy in a long time. There were times, mainly when I was alone with Takeo, that I thought I had felt happy. But now, now that I was actually breaking down my thoughts and emotions one-by-one, I realized it was just and act for myself. I was trying to save myself by acting happy.
I was pitiful.
Dear Takeo,
I had begun to write without realizing it.
I've been meaning to say these things to you for a very long time. I'm sorry I will not have the chance to actually say them to your face. Please, forgive me. Forgive my cowardice. I've been having these thoughts for a while. They've been pounding at my conscious for countless days.
I love you. It's blunt, it's open, it's out there. It needs to be said, even if you don't want to hear it, I need to say it. I'm sorry I'm writing it; I want you to hear it. I want you to hear my voice saying, "I love you" but, under my circumstances, that cannot happen. I don't know how long I've had these feelings for you; it must be ever since I've known you. Even though at times you would disagree with me, you are a great guy. You're heart is in the right place when it comes to friends. Yes, you do daydream constantly. Yes, you do tend to have superficial views of girls. No one is perfect, Takeo. And I love you for that. You're an everyday guy.
That brings me to another point. Everyday guys do not fall in love with their same-sex best friends. I never asked for it, Takeo. I didn't wake up one day and say to myself, "I think I'll fall in love with a boy today,". With all of my heart I say that I'm sorry for embracing you all of those times. I'm sorry I feel in love with you. I'm sorry I was unable to control my heart.
I'm sorry I caused you so much trouble. If you can forgive me, it would mean the world to me. I cannot put into words how much being in love with you has pained me. You were like some prize I couldn't win. It hurt to be around you. I was able to talk to you, be close to you—but I couldn't touch you in ways I wanted to. I felt so disgusting; I wanted to force you to want me. I wanted you to feel for me the exact same way I felt for you. I wanted you to feel my anguish. I wanted to take all of my emotions and switch them with yours. For once, I wanted to be able to look at any girl and want them only for their beauty. I wanted to be a normal guy. I wanted the superficial outlook on life. But I knew I couldn't have it. Just like I couldn't have you.
But why would I want to do that to you? You were Takeo, my best friend. I couldn't wish this ill things upon you, it would go against everything I had ever felt for you. That's when my hatred started, I think. For myself, that is. My hatred for myself and my emotions. I let them grow inside of me, keeping them bottled up for as long as I could stand. It didn't last long until I needed an outlet. I found something. Or should I say someone?
Sawanoguchi. I remember the day that she joined the Magic Club with her bossy little friend Nakatomi. I remember when you began to pay more and more attention to her. It felt so wrong for a junior to want a freshman. Two years difference, Takeo. Do you know how much can happened in two years? People can begin to fall in love and have that love form into a resentment. That resentment and burn inside of someone before it morphs into a depression. If you hate yourself, you soon begin to hate life. People can't live for very long if they can't stand themselves. Have you ever hated yourself so much that you can hardly stand to hear your own voice inside your head? I can't stand my voice. My own voice. I cannot stand to hear it. I hear it now, as I write these words. Why did this have to happen to me? Why did I have to fall in love with you? Why do you still remain in close contact with me? Why, Takeo? I have so many questions for which there are no answers. Do you see what I've been going through? Each day, hundreds of questions flood my mind. I can hardly think clearly. "What if I don't wake up today? Who would notice?" "Does Takeo hate me?" "Why can't I stop loving him?" "How can I still live when my thoughts are so morbid?" "Does it hurt to die?"
You see, after all of this mental torture I've put myself through, I've decided to be done with it. Simple, yes? I mean, when I'm free of you, I can be happy. It was that simple. Why did it take me four years to figure out? I guess I'm not as smart as some people say I am. Funny, yes? I would be laughing if my stomach didn't hurt as much as it does now. It's just been so long. So very long. I've been waiting too long. Too long for such a simple solution.
I am sorry it had to end this way.
Aburatsubo.
P.S.—Sawanoguchi is a lucky girl.
I put my pen down and stared at my letter. I surprised myself; there were no drops of moisture from any tears. I was done with tears. I was too far along to cry for anything any more. I just didn't feel the need.
With numb fingers, I folded the paper and set it gently on the wooden table. It looked so innocent. It looked like nothing.
Just as I felt.
"So, this is what it's like to die…"
I cannot describe exactly how I felt after that. After I stood up, neatly pushed my chair under the table, and walked out of the kitchen. I wish I could say "peace", but that wasn't it. I was not content; I was more of a shell than anything else. I suppose "empty" would be a good word. I felt empty. Like someone had erased my insides. I felt like I was nothing more than the bold line cartoonists use to separate their characters from the rest of the cartoon. I felt like an outline.
Somehow, I managed to make it through the hallway and into my room without bumping into anything. I was just a line, remember? If I were to bump, collide, crash, brush, or look at another object, I would have been running the risk of falling apart. But make it to my room in one piece I did. And as quietly as I could, I shut the door. There was no lock on the doorknob for me to use. I wouldn't need it. I was almost glad I didn't have a lock. They would find me. And then they would know.
He would know.
I would cause him pain. I would cause anyone who knew my name pain. Was I really being that selfish? Did I really want to hurt them as they did me? Was it just an act of revenge? A selfish act of escape that I used?
No.
All I wanted was to sleep.
And sleep I did.
I slid off of my bed and got on my knees. My room was a mess. My mother had demanded me to clean it this past weekend. I didn't. Why clean something you don't care about? Instead, I stored everything I could under my bed. When that was the only place I wanted to be, why not have my things near it? I reached under and began to search. I knew it was under there. I had put it there earlier—a precaution mostly. I had been thinking about it for quite awhile. Takeo would call it planning to make himself more comfortable.
I found it. Able to do nothing else but smile, I pulled out a bottle of sleeping pills from underneath my bed.
Pill by pill, my thoughts of Takeo, love, hate, regreat, depression, Sawanoguchi, Nakatomi, school, college, partings, friends, magic, club, Takeo, best friends, homosexuality, females, males, life, Mother, Takeo, school, love, sports, theater, schoolwork, Takeo, Takeo, and Takeo seemed to evaporate.
"Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry
And lose the name of action."
- Hamlet, Act III, Scene I, "Hamlet"
Lose the Name of Action
chapter six: "what dreams may come"
Why does it hurt? Why does it hurt to live? Why does it hurt to love? I can't understand. Isn't love supposed to be something that's beautiful? Isn't love supposed to make life wonderful? If that's so, then why does it break me in half to think about?
How hard is it to be able to get away? Away from the pain, the loneliness, the everything. I just wanted a break, a chance to rest. Just some sleep.
Would they care if I feel asleep and never woke up again?
Probably not.
I couldn't stand to think. I didn't want to think. And yet, a flow of thoughts flooded my mind. I couldn't stop thinking.
I needed to write my thoughts down in a letter to Takeo. I wanted him to know. I wanted him to know how much I cared for him and how much he had ruined me. I didn't blame him, though. I know I didn't blame him.
Actually, I wasn't too sure who I blamed.
It didn't make a difference.
Nothing did.
I shivered. Out of habit, I crossed my arms tightly around my body. What did it matter how cold I was? There was no one to warm me up, why was I worrying about heat? I had no one to offer me any. What was the point of wanting something I couldn't have?
"But I'm used to that, aren't I?" I mumbled angrily under my breath.
I felt sick.
I picked up my pace and jogged all the way back to my house. It had begun to rain by the time I got to my front door. The weather was perfect for my mood. It always seemed that way. Every time I felt horrible, there was a storm. Must just be another way to mock me. "Oh look, Aya, this is how the world views you: a sobbing thing that ruins everything."
Stop thinking. Save it for the letter. Save it for Takeo.
I was soaked when I opened my front door and stepped inside. I threw off my shoes and stumbled into the kitchen, slipping on the wooden floor and almost crashing into the table. I found my way to the desk near the refrigerator and tore open the drawers. Paper and a pen. Those were the tools necessary to be able to completely open myself up to the world. Easy, right? It was so easy to tell the world exactly what I was thinking and feeling. All I had to do was to write the words that have been running through my head for the past two years.
Paper and pen in hand, I sat down at the kitchen table. Water was still dripping from my clothes; it had rained that hard in that small amount of time. The weather could be amazing at times.
I paused, pen in hand.
The world could be amazing. There were so many wonderful things that it could offer. So many things that humans have built that were beautiful enough to rival nature's creations. Art, music, writings, and more. It was all wonderful. The theatre—wonderful. Paintings—wonderful. And humans themselves. For as many bad traits that we have there is another to confront it. A bad singing voice is cancelled out by a great sense of humor. People could be wonderful. People could be beautiful. In my mind, I knew that everyone had some good trait to him or her. Everyone could create something beautiful. Everyone could make something worthwhile.
But in my heart I could not make myself care.
When had I become this hopelessly lost in depression? When did it start? I thought for a moment, my fingers aching with pain to scribble frantic thoughts onto the paper in front of me. After a few moments, I realized that I couldn't remember not having the looming feeling of hopelessness. I had never been truly happy in a long time. There were times, mainly when I was alone with Takeo, that I thought I had felt happy. But now, now that I was actually breaking down my thoughts and emotions one-by-one, I realized it was just and act for myself. I was trying to save myself by acting happy.
I was pitiful.
Dear Takeo,
I had begun to write without realizing it.
I've been meaning to say these things to you for a very long time. I'm sorry I will not have the chance to actually say them to your face. Please, forgive me. Forgive my cowardice. I've been having these thoughts for a while. They've been pounding at my conscious for countless days.
I love you. It's blunt, it's open, it's out there. It needs to be said, even if you don't want to hear it, I need to say it. I'm sorry I'm writing it; I want you to hear it. I want you to hear my voice saying, "I love you" but, under my circumstances, that cannot happen. I don't know how long I've had these feelings for you; it must be ever since I've known you. Even though at times you would disagree with me, you are a great guy. You're heart is in the right place when it comes to friends. Yes, you do daydream constantly. Yes, you do tend to have superficial views of girls. No one is perfect, Takeo. And I love you for that. You're an everyday guy.
That brings me to another point. Everyday guys do not fall in love with their same-sex best friends. I never asked for it, Takeo. I didn't wake up one day and say to myself, "I think I'll fall in love with a boy today,". With all of my heart I say that I'm sorry for embracing you all of those times. I'm sorry I feel in love with you. I'm sorry I was unable to control my heart.
I'm sorry I caused you so much trouble. If you can forgive me, it would mean the world to me. I cannot put into words how much being in love with you has pained me. You were like some prize I couldn't win. It hurt to be around you. I was able to talk to you, be close to you—but I couldn't touch you in ways I wanted to. I felt so disgusting; I wanted to force you to want me. I wanted you to feel for me the exact same way I felt for you. I wanted you to feel my anguish. I wanted to take all of my emotions and switch them with yours. For once, I wanted to be able to look at any girl and want them only for their beauty. I wanted to be a normal guy. I wanted the superficial outlook on life. But I knew I couldn't have it. Just like I couldn't have you.
But why would I want to do that to you? You were Takeo, my best friend. I couldn't wish this ill things upon you, it would go against everything I had ever felt for you. That's when my hatred started, I think. For myself, that is. My hatred for myself and my emotions. I let them grow inside of me, keeping them bottled up for as long as I could stand. It didn't last long until I needed an outlet. I found something. Or should I say someone?
Sawanoguchi. I remember the day that she joined the Magic Club with her bossy little friend Nakatomi. I remember when you began to pay more and more attention to her. It felt so wrong for a junior to want a freshman. Two years difference, Takeo. Do you know how much can happened in two years? People can begin to fall in love and have that love form into a resentment. That resentment and burn inside of someone before it morphs into a depression. If you hate yourself, you soon begin to hate life. People can't live for very long if they can't stand themselves. Have you ever hated yourself so much that you can hardly stand to hear your own voice inside your head? I can't stand my voice. My own voice. I cannot stand to hear it. I hear it now, as I write these words. Why did this have to happen to me? Why did I have to fall in love with you? Why do you still remain in close contact with me? Why, Takeo? I have so many questions for which there are no answers. Do you see what I've been going through? Each day, hundreds of questions flood my mind. I can hardly think clearly. "What if I don't wake up today? Who would notice?" "Does Takeo hate me?" "Why can't I stop loving him?" "How can I still live when my thoughts are so morbid?" "Does it hurt to die?"
You see, after all of this mental torture I've put myself through, I've decided to be done with it. Simple, yes? I mean, when I'm free of you, I can be happy. It was that simple. Why did it take me four years to figure out? I guess I'm not as smart as some people say I am. Funny, yes? I would be laughing if my stomach didn't hurt as much as it does now. It's just been so long. So very long. I've been waiting too long. Too long for such a simple solution.
I am sorry it had to end this way.
Aburatsubo.
P.S.—Sawanoguchi is a lucky girl.
I put my pen down and stared at my letter. I surprised myself; there were no drops of moisture from any tears. I was done with tears. I was too far along to cry for anything any more. I just didn't feel the need.
With numb fingers, I folded the paper and set it gently on the wooden table. It looked so innocent. It looked like nothing.
Just as I felt.
"So, this is what it's like to die…"
I cannot describe exactly how I felt after that. After I stood up, neatly pushed my chair under the table, and walked out of the kitchen. I wish I could say "peace", but that wasn't it. I was not content; I was more of a shell than anything else. I suppose "empty" would be a good word. I felt empty. Like someone had erased my insides. I felt like I was nothing more than the bold line cartoonists use to separate their characters from the rest of the cartoon. I felt like an outline.
Somehow, I managed to make it through the hallway and into my room without bumping into anything. I was just a line, remember? If I were to bump, collide, crash, brush, or look at another object, I would have been running the risk of falling apart. But make it to my room in one piece I did. And as quietly as I could, I shut the door. There was no lock on the doorknob for me to use. I wouldn't need it. I was almost glad I didn't have a lock. They would find me. And then they would know.
He would know.
I would cause him pain. I would cause anyone who knew my name pain. Was I really being that selfish? Did I really want to hurt them as they did me? Was it just an act of revenge? A selfish act of escape that I used?
No.
All I wanted was to sleep.
And sleep I did.
I slid off of my bed and got on my knees. My room was a mess. My mother had demanded me to clean it this past weekend. I didn't. Why clean something you don't care about? Instead, I stored everything I could under my bed. When that was the only place I wanted to be, why not have my things near it? I reached under and began to search. I knew it was under there. I had put it there earlier—a precaution mostly. I had been thinking about it for quite awhile. Takeo would call it planning to make himself more comfortable.
I found it. Able to do nothing else but smile, I pulled out a bottle of sleeping pills from underneath my bed.
Pill by pill, my thoughts of Takeo, love, hate, regreat, depression, Sawanoguchi, Nakatomi, school, college, partings, friends, magic, club, Takeo, best friends, homosexuality, females, males, life, Mother, Takeo, school, love, sports, theater, schoolwork, Takeo, Takeo, and Takeo seemed to evaporate.
Comments: Almost there.
