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Against my better judgment, I've been thinking about life.
It's not like there's much else to do here when everyone else is busy. At least Nijika and Seika have started to trust me not to burn the place down in their absence. Not that I bother trying to cook anything, anyway.
That's a lot of the problem, really.
What am I even doing here? Like, what am I actually... contributing to any of this? To the household, to the band, to my friends?
Do I even really matter?
I just keep trying to think, to figure out what people see in me that makes them want me to stay around, and it's just leading me in circles. And, the more I think, the more I realize that... I don't even know who I am, if I'm being honest.
Am I the perfect, amazing girl that Ikuyo seems to see? That monument in her head of the perfect musician? Or did that impression of me just crumble away as she got to know me? She's with Bocchi now, after all. If I wanted anything to happen, I should've actually acted, instead of just counting on her somehow never losing interest in me.
Am I the scumbag that Bocchi ought to view me as? She's never been anything but nice to me, and I should be better for her so we at least have each other, and yet... I've abused her kindness nonetheless. As much as I try to atone, I can't make up for the fact that I didn't reach out to her sooner. I was a coward, and it nearly cost us her life.
Am I a foundation for Nijika to thrive? It seems like she needs me—that's what she says, at least—but that feels like more a matter of proximity than anything. As much as she insists that I'm crucial to her, as she gets upset at me for suggesting I'm unnecessary... I can see the way she looks at the others. She'd probably just be better off with them.
Or... am I maybe just failing to be the son that they wanted? Some burnout that just cares more about his own whims than any means of actually sustaining himself? A piece of garbage to be tossed to the curb when he takes and takes and takes and offers nothing in return, not even gratitude?
Out of all of the options, that's probably the closest to the truth.
I want to know who I am. I need to. Isn't this supposed to be my whole thing? Being true to myself? What kind of idiot doesn't practice what she believes with her whole heart?
I guess I can hardly do that if I can't tell who I am, though.
Someone once said that we're the stories we tell ourselves. That other people's thoughts can influence us, but it's what we ourselves want that defines who we are. And maybe that could be true.
But, at the end of the day, I've never been a particularly good storyteller.