despair

Giving up

It was a very cloudy, rainy day, unlike the past. I woke up to the sound of the pitter-patter rain. It wasn't a very pleasant day. Since there was almost no sunlight, I felt good, so I decided to go outside for the first time in a while. I couldn't fall any further, so I laughed at the world and rebelliously, saying, "I don't know what to do." It was definitely daytime. Everyone had taken refuge in the stores due to the drizzling rain. I got drenched in the rain without using an umbrella or raincoat. It was cold and unpleasant. Even the air was suffocating. I felt dirty. I frowned. No one welcomed me outside, where I had gone to change my mood. I was only waiting for you.

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I was quietly getting rained on in a deserted alley. A restaurant worker came to throw away the trash, but he tried hard to avoid my eyes and quickly left. Maybe they thought I was crazy. A laughter escaped my lips. Then suddenly, tears flowed down my face. I couldn't hold them back. Happy-looking couples holding their umbrellas, students with fancy umbrellas walking towards a snack bar after the party, laughing and chatting. An office worker with dark circles under his eyes who looked busy but was leaving a company dinner with a transparent umbrella he had quickly bought at a convenience store, a father with a black umbrella and a happy face talking on the phone with his daughter. I envied the shadows each umbrella made. I wanted to use them. I wish I hadn't gotten wet in the rain and someone had stopped me. Beautiful and happy images of what it would be like if that were you crossed my mind. I wanted to go back to being a student, cry over my test scores, laugh with my friends, leave the company dinner first and go home happily, and be with you. I wish you would call me, make plans, and wait for me. I try to hold back my tears. My vision is blurry. I walk back home precariously. I haven't eaten anything, but I want to empty my stomach, so I throw everything up. There's nothing in my vomit. It's painful. I'm lonely. It feels like my organs are being twisted. This behavior is a kind of compulsion, or self-harm.

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The courage to die arose. The line between life and death that he had drawn faintly out of respect for the person who had passed away was broken. Where did such courage come from? He was angry at the reality that he wanted it so badly but could not have it, blamed himself, and gave up. For the first time, he cried out loud. His tears were a jumble of anger, resentment, and hope. He had never seen blood in his life, and he had never seen the color red, and when he did, he couldn't breathe. His throat tightened. The memories of those unforgettable days always came back to him, day and night. That day, he poured himself a very bright red wine. And then he died. Was that wine really wine? The glass of wine was very, very red and had a fishy scent.

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You were my only hope

It's despair

was an object of admiration

You held my hand

I answered him.

Gender didn't matter.

I just

Just because it's you

It's enough if you know it.

Did my greed make you like this?

Then don't cry

Let's meet again happily