A Wilting Rose
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Part I: Reasons
The fickle and vain gaze upon it enviously;The distraught see it as a sign of hope.Yet, all are blinded to the truth:It is no more than a façade.It is not real, and never will be.It represents merely a lie;One to which all turn blind eyes, and deaf ears,For they know nothing.Nothing, except their selfish desires.The glass rose means no more to them,Than that which they do not have.
I find myself staring lazily out of my bedroom window with little intent, watching the cherry blossoms dance on the breeze without a care in the world; the birds chirp in merriment. The street my window watches over is empty, all but for one woman walking along the sidewalk, a young child — too young to be in school quite yet — clinging to her hand. They seem perfectly happy and content.
Everything seems so perfect and utterly relaxed. So at peace. So right. Well, everything outside of this room seems right at least I muse, ever the cynic. Of course, everything — everyone — except myself has the right to experience the peace of these times. They live their lives fully, happily; they have every right in the world.
Whereas I have no more right being alive than I do being dead; no more right enjoying this life than deploring it.
It is true, after all: this meager existence I have eked out for myself is one of naught but lies. What right do I have to be here when my very being here is on solely the basis of those lies?
I have no right.
But having right, or not having right, regardless, has never stopped me. What do I care if my life is a lie? What do I care that the life I live is not mine to claim?
Simple: I do not.
I do not care. Which is, in itself, ironic when you consider the fact that I am still here. "I do not care." That is another lie to add to my ill-begotten résumé.
The very fact is that I do, indeed, care. That in itself has led me to my untimely undoing. That very fact has also been the cause of several of the lies I live behind presently.
But… Since when do I care about a simple lie?
The being that I am, the being that I was... Lies were always — and will always remain — a natural, everyday part of life. Without lies, and the protection they ultimately provide, one has no guarantee to one's survival. They keep one sheltered and alive. Funny, considering that for all of their vital protection, and despite the integral part they play in maintaining the hollow shadow of my existence I have thrived upon these past few mortal years, they are the very things undoing me now.
An interesting twist of Fate? Or, perhaps, just another lesson to be learned?
The entirety of my situation has taken a 360-degree turn around, very much like my overall being, I suppose, considering that I have become a very different entity now than I was in the past. Considering the being that I was, and what that constituted in my life, and taking into account who I am — or pretend to be — now, and what this present life constitutes, is it Fate?
Somehow, I do not think so.
Somehow, I think Enma is just punishing me.
The woman walking the child beneath my window has long since gone. However, the birds' chirping and the gentle tones of the breeze remain. The feeling of resentment within me swells.
What have I done to warrant this? Haven't I done enough?
For whatever reason, Enma is punishing me; piling more unwanted obstacles in my path.
Don't I deserve happiness; what it constitutes?
I have spent most of my human life repenting for the sins I committed as Youko, the King of Thieves. I have cleared my slate in Reikai and started anew in Ningenkai. Yet, no one is giving me repast, and no one is letting me have the peace I seek.
No one is leaving the past where it belongs...
In the past.
So, am I to remain haunted by my stunts as Youko? Am I to remain forever in despair?
For one who never gave a second thought to a life of despair as the great King of Thieves in Makai, the thought plagues me often enough now as a simple ningen. And, it is a none-too-becoming promise, if I am to be honest.
I have tried hard to repent for my sins; tried even harder to go on living a life which to which I am not bound and to which I hold no claims, without showing remorse for it. And most of all, I have tried to turn a fresh leaf, leaving Youko behind forever.
Leaving everything behind forever.
But, despite my efforts, I cannot — will not— succeed. Youko is my past, and always will be.
I have no power to change that.
And no one will allow me to forget that. That is just the problem.
And, I continue to tell myself to live with the fact, because I knew from the start that my life would be this way. Naïvely, I continue to tell myself that perhaps one day in the future not so far from sight, things will change.
Yet now, here I am, coming undone, because of the very thing I told myself to live with.
Perhaps it is guilt, because I know I have no right to be among the living. Maybe it is resentment, because I made this choice. Maybe I am just tired. Tired of trying to appease myself, and do right in the eyes of others, when despite my best and greatest efforts, I will always fall short.
Maybe I am just tired of trying...
Maybe I am tired of living a double-life.
I fall back onto my bed again, frustrated. The crimson sheets ripple angrily around me, contouring against the sharp angles of my tired body. Why do I do this to myself?
Why did I ever choose to put up with it?
Why? Because I am naïve — incredibly naïve. So much so, in fact, that I brought myself to believe I could ever do right in this life.
I sigh, my eyes darting tiredly to the alarm clock, sitting perched on my bookshelf. 1:30. Time trudges on despairingly slowly when depression fogs the mind, thick and sickly, clawing at the nerves and dulling the senses.
A mistake on my part…
I realized a long while ago that I have no right to any of what I claim. I have no right to life, no right to death. No right to lie simply for carrying on with this shallow and pitiful excuse for an existence.
Maybe I can redeem myself eternally, repenting for all the mistakes I have made here, in this life.
As much as I have done in an attempt to right the wrongs I committed back then, a single option has always escaped me. An option that has been, for many, an ever-present open door. I just never thought to consider opening that particular door.
Yet, it has always been there, plain as day. So, why haven't I ever given it another thought?
Because I thought I could live with my life the way it was, and the way it is now. Because I thought I was doing right by living this lie. Because I thought that things would change, that people would change...
They have not.
So much for that hope.
So much for any of my hopes, really. Again, I was foolish enough to believe things would change; things would turn in my favor. For all my trying, for all my pretty hopeful ideals...
I am still no better off than I was before.
So what is the point of going on, when this life is progressing no better than the last?
Really, there is no point. I am not so sure certain that there ever was, actually.
So, what is the point?
There is not one.
So, what is stopping me?
I have to think about this.
What is stopping me? Shiori, perhaps. But, even now... After all the times I have lied to her, and undoubtedly will continue doing so, after all of it is said and done, what right do I have to continue lying?
I had no right then.
I have no right now.
It would be for the best if I did it — opened that eternally available door. After all, in the long run, I will only end up hurting the woman more.
If that rings true, why do I still continue thinking of staying with the woman? Why do I brood over my choice, doubt my instincts?
I do not really know why.
Lately, it seems, I do not know much of anything. To stay with the woman, go on living this life... Or leave, simply.
Honestly, I am tired of thinking about it.
I am tired of it all. Tired of the lies, of the double-life. All of it. There seems to be no end to the lies I live in, and there seems to be no more truth in any of what I do, and it tires me. Because in an indecisive life like this, there is no peace.
Maybe that is what Enma is trying to tell me...
Perhaps, for the peace I seek, for the solace I so deeply desire, maybe I must simply give it all up.
Recently, with the way things have been going, my humanity seems a small price to pay for the comfort I seek.
That must be the answer, then.
But my humanity is one thing.
My life is another.
So, it must not be the answer.
What is then? I wonder dully, closing my eyes to drown out the sea of white flooding my vision. I find my senses enveloped in a shroud of black, and somehow, it is soothing. Unnerving, but soothing. And, I do not understand it.
Black, so unending, so ongoing... So utterly empty.
Empty? Is that it? Is that why I feel as I do now; because I feel empty?
I wonder. It is true that, lately, I have been pondering my existence, and the reason as to why I insist on remaining here. Yet, I have failed to find a tangible reason. Is it truly emptiness that has stolen in over my heart, my mind?
But how can I be empty? I have the unwavering love of my mother, friends who I can count on for anything — who would die for me without a moment's hesitation if occasion called , a decent stepfather and brother, and top grades in my school. How can I possibly feel empty?
No one really knows me; sometimes I wonder if I even know myself. It is no wonder I feel so alone.
So empty…
But I have never before cared whether anyone knew me; for the most part I prefer that they do not. Why the sudden change of heart?
Because I am not the same person I was back then. I am no longer Youko Kurama.
True, I most definitely am not the same, and neither are my views on life, or my emotions.
Again with that word. Emotions. They did this to me.
Human emotions have taken hold of my heart, and somehow, it feels like a vile disease; something I would rather be rid of. Because, while not all emotions are bad, per se, some are.
And it is the one ruining me.
Resentment.
The fact that I cannot find peace within the very realm I force myself to reside in — and actually be a sentient part of — causes me to resent my choice. And I — for once, rightfully feel I —have every right to resent it. My choice has marked me for the worse here.
Marked me as an outcast.
So, maybe peace is not what I seek, then...
Well, now that I think about it, my life is peaceful; on a broad scale, I have no reason to truly complain. So, I must be seeking something else.
That which is the trait I lack, is why I resent my choice. And I lack understanding from this world for what, or who, I am...
So what I am seeking must be...
Acceptance.
If I think about it — which I really do not even have to do thoroughly — I realize that I do not have acceptance, and I know that I never have. But also, I realize that I do not want it; I never have. People's opinions of me have always mattered very little to me, whether it was as Youko, or as who I am now. So acceptance cannot be it.
Neither is peace.
I am empty. Perhaps that is the sole reason. But, it seems such a small, trivial reason. That cannot be it; not entirely at least. It is impossible.
I am tired of the lies, of the secrets, of constantly having to deceive everyone.
That is it; maybe I am just tired. And, I know just the cure for being tired…
Sleep.
Eternal sleep.