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Wanna rip out my intestines, throw them in the sea
September 9th...
Rin was having a strong attack of nausea and stomachache at the same time. It wasn't for the weak, really. But was he weak? Never. Still, it wasn't enough for him to survive. Never. It was always hard, a hassle and it was a pain to survive. This can not be denied. At least for him. But he was failing miserably. Just like the other things he does. Were there any differences between the life and death? Were there? If there were, he would love to see. Oh, back to the topic... He didn't eat all the day. He should, since he can not starve himself because he was an athlete. He HAS to be in a good condition. Though... Rin always loved self-destruction. Because there were no one else to destroy. Because he had already destroyed everyone but his main enemy. Because he had to destroy himself to be the beast over and over again... But, in the end, it was actually him who was destroyed. He shouldn't have been destroyed like this. Permanently... Back to the self-desctruction... Oh, right. He always loved that. And starving was one of the main things to destruct himself step by step- Actually who cares that! He HAS to be brutal. Barbaric. Ferocious. Wild. Savage. All to himself. Because he had been all of these to everyone anyways. It didn't work, did it?.. The answer is no, because he was fucking starving himself. It was never enough. He always needed things to destroy. Because he was never a thing other than an abandoned, destroyed ruin. So he found another things to ruin them- and now it was really his turn. Fucking finally.
He clawed at his already red tummy under the thin fabric of the pajama shirt he was wearing. He wanted to rip his skin open and take his organs out- just like the predators back then he saw in the documentaries. It was the evolution of his misery, really. And he had enough. Fucking finally.
Maybe it will be all okay if he just ate somethings. But what was even the point of the self-destruction then? So he didn't. He just kept clawing his poor skin on his messy bed, in his dark room. And the room was a part of the empty house. His parents were away for something who knows... And... Sae-... His big... The other little boy hadn't been here for a brutally long time. Fucking painfully long time to Rin's liking... Doesn't matter anymore.
He exhaled fucking pitifully. He had decided it anyways, about ending it today, so he can be miserable and vulnerable for the last time... Right?.. He stood up and wobbled for a while. Damn, how long time had it been since he layed down there? Doesn't matter anymore.
The boy slowly, surprisingly and not-so familiarly slowly, walked to the windows. He should close the curtains off, because it was midnight. He didn't even notice it until now- He just hissed with the sudden pain shot his whole body, he shuddered and just ignored it. He was a master at ignoring the pain at this point. Shouldn't be that hard... His slightly but still visibly shaky hands reached for the curtains... And that was when he saw the fucking wreck who stares back at him. His bangs were messy and he was frowning-pouting. Like him... He wanted to abuse the glass for being this fucking lukewarm- Oh, it was him, though. The reflection... Still, he looks like him. Exactly. Change the hair, and whoa, you have the big lashes here! He... He didn't want anything else but to shatter that window to its pieces... But he didn't. He closed the curtains over his past. He didn't break his past, how could he? He couldn't. It was how pathetic he was.
I wanna raise the money to invest in plastic surgery
Did he have to look like exactly like him? Act like him? Influenced by him to the point he was not a puppeteer but the puppet himself..? Was he? Doesn't matter anymore.
He frowned even more, tried to erase the familiar expression from his face even if he wasn't face to face with his fucking reflection anymore. But he knows. He wasn't the one he really hates. He knows it was himself...
As to prove this, he felt a sudden pain sting through his left foot. Oh, yeah. The mirror he broke this... a morning. Whenever. He doesn't remember. Doesn't matter anymore.
He stepped back and took a look at the shattered pieces, who still had dried blood on them. The pain intrigues him, really. The excitement of the pain and suffering... I mean, it was all he was going through. Even if he was dramatic. Even if he was the only one to make Rin suffer. Even if he was... the culprit of everything. Doesn't matter anymore.
Remembering the time he had been staring at a random blade, razor or- anything... He felt even more pitiful. He never have done it. Because it was always too risky. First of all... Yes, he needed the pain (according to his mind), but he can not just slice himself just because. Since it will really make him suffer physically. Look, he doesn't care that one. But... He was an athlete. He just can not afford a physical con. Not when he is aiming the top. And also the scars and wounds were just had the risk to be seen. The lockers rooms were not a joke. He just couldn't. But no worries, there were so many and always other ways to suffer by your own if you want it enough. He couldn't starve himself too, as he said. So aside from emotional torture, he always needed someones to torture him physically. You see, he never had enough of that. This was why... Right now, at the very the last moments of his existence, it would be a lie if he said he wasn't thinking about it... Not like they will be his trouble afterwards, anyways. Doesn't matter anymore.
I wanna cover myself head to toe with super sexy scars
Because he always was curious of this much aware torturing you can give yourself. Why not trying? Though... Habits die hard. He can not really and actively hurt himself. He just... can not. As if he haven't been, even if passively. Still, he was tired of the same sufferings. He just needs new things- Why was he not killing himself now, then?! He was waiting. For fucking what... He really was wretched. Wasn't he? Doesn't matter anymore.
Wait- It does NOT?.. Really? He thinks... He wasn't THE WORST, now, was he..? WAS HE? WASHE.WASHE.WSSJE.ASHE.ASJWSAE.S
CRASH.
Oh, the blood- Nice. What a nice view it was... Seeing his wrecked state in a wrecked, shattered, miserable mirror. Which he just slammed his head to and made even more messy... And he stared into where his face's reflection was supposed to be. Only to see shattered pieces who was bleeding. Yes fucking yes... It was his damned core. It was his isolated core. It was his piteous core. He can feel the warm liquid was dripping down, tortureously slow, his forehead. What a nice warmth it was... Just like when the tiny hands collide- Doesn't matter anymore.
The only thing matters... is to be the one. It was. Because he will be leaving the number one tonight. He didn't have a happy time with that number, and he doesn't want to anymore... Wasn't it the most thing he wanted to be- No. He... He... He...- Doesn't matter anymore.
'Cause I mean, aren't you supposed to burn if you're a star?
He just pushed and pushed, acted, has changed, tried, didn't stop- All for what? He wasn't a pessimist, no. But can not he want a... a... a... a... a... a... He just threw the mirror and it smashed right into the wall. To the very wall now was empty- but used to be their favourite one because of the memories it used to carry on it... The mirror was now... Wasn't very much like a mirror. But he wasn't very much like himself too... He never was. He was all about Sae, wasn't he?- Wait... Doesn't matter anymore.
I want to be torn apart excruciatingly
What does matter? Well, he... The pieces were kind of nice, at the moment. The dried blood and the shattered, little glasses were a new colour for Rin to paint himself all over... He can do that... He thought, as he walks to them. How a nice feeling it would be a fucking shattered to his pieces by someone like him- Oh, he did. Didn't he. In that snowy night. Right...
I punish my body 'cause it's not good enough for me
He had been tormenting himself with that stupid memory for a ridiculously, childishly long time for his liking. He made himself remember what he was not. What he could not be. What he could not achieve. And... What he had lost. He, that night, had bleed into the freezing snow. And he was all alone with them. His blood blended one with the snow, who was unforgiving and shows no mercy even to its companions. And he was frozen in there, just like that. The only thing wasn't frozen was... his bleeding. He kept bleeding, he kept be hurting and he kept suffering. All alone, stucked, isolated and useless. Let him be, though. It was a really nice material to help him punish himself throught the worthless things he did to improve... Did he improve, anyways? Doesn't matter anymore.
The scary thoughts are spreading like a weed
The thoughts that say that I deserve to bleed
Because this will be the end. It was wonderdul to be bleeding since that time, though, really! Who wouldn't be entartained by this? His brain was singing happily every fucking second of it. It was so happy about all the blood bleds outside but to the heart. Which didn't have any significance for the whole existence of it... By the time, he was already used to it. And he didn't want that wound to be closed off. Because, come on, where would he be torture himself from, then? Where could he get his deserved punishment from? Doesn't matter anymore.
They say that it gets better, but I guess that was a lie
Yet... There used to be the times he used to... wait. Wasn't he doing the same at the moment- NO SHUT THE FUCK UP- And he really, really wanted to try to stop the bleeding. Importance of the words. He wanted to try, but never did. Perhaps he didn't want it enough. Once again, what did he ever do actually enough. For anything......
I guess we all just fake it till we die
Just like he thinks, he wasn't even real. His wants were not. His needs were not. His desires were not. His efforts were not... But his end. He was, at least for this, sure it will be the end. And if he's right the first time, it will be the end. And then fucking finally, he could be real... He could be something. Something other than... this. Doesn't matter anymore.
Sympathy and love we can extend to someone else
But it's harder when you have to love yourself
Not like he ever cared about what he had became. Or will be. Or was. Because they won't be enough. And that was what matters. What mattered, my apologies.
I wanna take a knife and draw a line across my chest
What currently matters, however, was the disgustingly strong and persistant ache that shot his heart. The affect of the pills which he didn't even look at while dumping down his throat? Good, then. Though, once again, this wasn't a pain that's new. So it was fucking repulsing. He wanted to fucking puke- But no. For his end, he needed them. He was so pathetic that he can not be alone even in his end. Just like he wasn't at his beginning. Doesn't matter anymore...
He thought about it not that hard, not that shallow. But he had considered the barbaric blood flowing down his chest. However, it was risky to be rescued. Fucking again. And no way he was allowing that even once more.
Because, it was one of the rare times he was really, even if little, at ease.
I wanna feel much better than I do when I am at my best
And he can not wait to feel even more better when he is perished. Because, all this life had been doing to him was fucking something he wasn't the best at. Doesn't matter anymore.
I wanna fly away from my own skin and find a better place
Actually, he thought about afterwards too, surprisingly. You see, he didn't want to die or kill himself but, he yearns for his existence to be erased. Doesn't this mean he was waiting for help? Okay, maybe he wasn't. Actively. But there was a hope. A possibility. Which no one saw. Or noticed. Or cared... Back to the topic- Maybe... Just maybe... There would be somethings not bad for him- Die. Die. Fucking die. I said doesn't matter anymore. Stop being fucking childish and hoping.
But he won't stop. Because having false hopes was a inseperable part of self-destruction. It is fun to have hopes, despite knowing the outcome. Despite knowing the suffering; for the start, the process and the end. Even afterwards. But still believe, or wait, or hope- And then they get fucking destroyed! What a nice feeling was it! Even better and a cherry on the top if you were the destroyer. Ah, he was all excited now!
I wanna slash across what used to be my face
However... Doesn't matter anymore.
He just sat, barely conscious, on his, not for too long, desk. And there was a single sheet. Clean, waiting to be dirtied by rage. By pessimism. By him. By Itoshi Rin.
He smiled, and just hold his bitten marked pen. What a nice letter will he write!
...
Farewell, to the sea.
It has our hearts which pump seperately, had been pumping seperately for a while. Though, mine won't be pumping anymore by the time someone is reading these sentences of my numbness. Not suffering, not at all.
It has our memories, which are just faded sweets for me, which I could not get the taste of again in whatever dessert I ate. And I won't. Never again, not even in anotler life. Because my existence is just getting erased by the sea, and I won't return again. So that is my farewell to the sea, ocean. Thank you for holding my emotions in you, since I never couldn't.
Farewell to the city.
It has my loneliness. Because I never get to see nii-chan in the familiar spaces again. This actually hurts, had been hurting. Doesn't matter, though. I can take it. I did. Didn't I?
It has my dreams. Which was crushed but never was given away. I never did, I never gave up. I was just mad and hurt. But this wasn't important because it was me. I never was important. Never was enough.
It has my last shows. I don't care about that facility anymore. So our city has the last remnants of my plays. I hope the only one whill have them is it. Because I want to be erased completely. I don't want to be remembered or existed. I had to exist, so it is only fair for you all to act like I didn't.
Farewell to myself.
It doesn't have anything. It never did. And that's my why. That's these letters' whys. I sometimes wonder, was I real? If I was, why was I lonely? I don't even care about the general meaning of the loneliness. No one going to get it but I will just write anyways. This is the least and the first, last thing I can do it for myself. Why was I alone in another dimension but had to blend in the normal one? I never get an answer. I never get any answers for anything, so I wasn't mad about being left alone...
It has my rage. Which I only have for it. I never had real emotions, it seems. I just felt rage, I just lashed out. I just felt nauseous by the other emotions. Did I? I was nauseous. But now, I am the calmest version of myself. Not going to lie, suicide is the only true meditation for me, it seems.
and...
Farewell to my nii-chan.
The only person, thing I didn't want to say goodbye. Honestly, I don't have anything to say. I actually have, but I don't really want him to listen. I do not want him to see me weak. I do not want him to leave me again. I do not want to hear his insults again. I just want my nii-chan back. But I won't. Because I am giving up. He was right. Everyone was right. I am too much, yet not enough, somehow.
So I will be the Sea's. It will accept me. Just like how it had been accepting my feelings outside of the rage. So I will be completed again. I will be a human being, when I meet with my true feelings the first time. It feels good, surprisingly. And I am calm. I am serene. I am... I don't want to die, but I yearn for my existence to be erased.
so, dear sea,
please accept this soul of mine
far from anything kind and pretty
yearning for its eternal serenity,
which only your magical foams could create
since I have dirtied it with rage.
and, to me, would you be kind?
though not worth it,
the soul is tired to its ending
just like it was tied to the death.
It swam a lot there, the soul.
in the intensely heavy waters of the agony.
in the lonely clouds, was lost, the soul.
trying to spot the difference between itself and the storm's misery.
No one going to understand my soul, once again. I never was troubled with the others, though. It was all me. And I finally have drowned in the fucking intense pool of my emotion blood. While it was snowing like it was the end of the world. In fact, it was. For me.
Extra, extra read all about it.
Rin in his feelings and he can't get out of it.
...
He was kind of hasty- because he has a date with his last misery..!
The way he left the house ■■■-
I want to be torn apart excruciatingly
The way his wobbly legs carried him to ■■■-
I punish my body 'cause it's not good enough for me
The way his now-getting-blurry vision finally met with the ■■■-
The scary thoughts are spreading like a weed
The way he left his shoes at the ■■■-
The thoughts that say that I deserve to bleed
He, finally, felt the chilly dampness and- he was sinking? Was he? Oh, he was... He wasn't happy. But that was okay. He never was... Well, he was. Back then- Doesn't fucking matter anymore.
The way he left the house with tears, the way his wobbly legs carried him to the very memorable sea, the way he left his shoes at the shore... They were all... Lonely, and belonged to his final play. He was about to be one with the sea- No.
He is about to be the Sea.
Not in a happy way as he, even little (with not the aim of self-destruction but who even cares about Rin), waits it to be.
I punish my body 'cause it's not good enough for me
The scary thoughts are spreading like a weed
The thoughts that say that I deserve to bleed
The thoughts that say that I deserve to bleed
The thoughts that say that I deserve to bleed
