Your name is Utsugi Ichigo. (You love shrimp-fried rice, adorbs things, and your little sister.)
You're dead. (But you were only sixteen, why are you dead?)
It's as simple as that. (It's not, nothing is as simple as that.)
You don't really remember the circumstances behind your death. (It hurt so much. You couldn't breathe. Your lungs were burning for air.)
You know that you were a famous teenage actress and you had a younger sister. (She's dead too, jumped off of a building.)
You know you hate your parents with a burning passion. (Sometimes, you dream of putting them through the pain they did to you, but you would hate to clean up the mess it would make.)
You also know you hate acting. (Who wouldn't, your mommy put all of her dreams on you, tried to make you sparkle, and your daddy made money off of it.)
You spend your days in the drama room, reading whatever you can find. (You have nowhere else to go. You're stuck in this room and this school.)
Apparently, it's your boundary now. (It has at least an inch of water on the floor and the overall vibe that someone died there, which makes sense because you did.)
You had this all explained to you by Tsuchigomori-sensei. (Yes, your middle school biology teacher. He looked at you with such a sad expression.)
You're ok with being dead now. (No, you're not, you wanted to live and have two kids and be more than just an actress.)
As a ghost stuck in a room, a school, you're not allowed to follow your mortal dreams but to obey the whims of an everchanging rumor. (But when have you been one to follow the rules?)
The day you became No. 8, Utsugi-san of the Drama Room was interesting enough. (You cried for the girl named Ichigo, who tried her best to keep her sister safe and was twisted and turned into something else.)
You ask riddle after riddle to people who have either the fortune or misfortune of seeing you. (The number of people who have become props is more than the number of people who survive you.)
You've accepted all of this. You're fine and dandy. (No, you're not... stop lying to yourself.)
You are nothing more than the ghost of a teenage actress. (No, you're way more than that, why do you keep telling yourself that?)
end.
