Conclusion

Sometimes I found myself looking down from the railing of the external corridor and imagining my lifeless body squashed against the cobblestone pavement.

The slight incline carried my already cold blood down the cracks, eventually reaching the flower bed below, or, more likely, the overgrown patch of grass the landlord never bothered to trim.

Looking back, would my blood have already cooled, or would it still be fervently hot, my body still struggling to cling to life? I couldn’t seem to make up my mind, but if I wasn’t already dead, I would be soon, and I found it beautiful.

The scarlet tint of my blood, darkening to brown as it met the open air, contrasted with the grey of the stone. Beauty existed only then. The moment one’s life was lost was where death’s true beauty revealed itself, and I could never seem to reach it.

The melancholy of everyday life got to me. It made me wish to disappear, wish to never have existed to begin with. But when it came down to the important moment of letting go, I was simply incapable of going through with it.

Maybe this was just me coping with my desires. Still, I had already decided that tomorrow, I would say goodbye to this irredeemable life of mine.

It had been years since I first thought about the sad expression on my parents' faces as they discovered my parting. That image was probably what gripped me to stay alive for so long, but as time went on, I couldn’t see those tears anymore. The well had long dried up, and only a stone-cold expression still lingered. Those faces, already blurred, couldn’t reach me, at least not anymore.

I had already bought the rope, planning to tie it on the doorknob and around my neck, replicating a scene from a manga I read. The only thing left was to write a suicide letter, something I believed was normally done in my situation, though I wasn’t sure how my parents would even see it since they weren’t here. Maybe it was better to send it by post instead of leaving it on the table as I had previously planned to.

I should go for a walk and stop by the Seven-Eleven as I head to the park. Perhaps a breath of fresh air and contact with nature would give me the motivation I needed to write.

It felt ironic. I never left home, or at least this 6-tatami-mat room I called home. This room was more than enough. It was the Japanese dream, after all. Who wouldn’t want to live in a cramped apartment with little to no furniture as they rot away, awaiting their time to come? I most certainly would, and those living in a 4.5 probably would too.

“Where’s my backpack?” I asked myself as I scattered everything lying around on the chaotic floor.

I came across the faded brown backpack I hadn’t used since middle school and put my seemingly new notebook and pencils inside it. They were meant for work notes, but I never brought myself to use them, so they were spotless. And what better way to debut them if not by writing a suicide letter?

I was the Osamu Dazai of my times.

Approaching the door, I looked to my right and stared at my reflection in the completely cracked, full-body mirror. Besides the shattered corners, pieces gradually falling down each time I opened the door, the mirror was split in half by a huge, almost diagonal fissure.

The more I glared at my reflection, the more distorted it appeared. My straight black hair and pale complexion had vanished, replaced by the dark, maggot-infested blob I had become. Bugs crawled out of my every orifice and fell to the ground. I was totally infested, a decaying hunk of putrid flesh, and nothing more than that.

“Ittekimasu,” I murmured, closing the door, as if talking to someone who wasn't there.

I locked the door and left the apartment without folding my futon. A freezing gust hit me the moment I stepped outside, sending a shiver down my spine. But gripped by laziness, I didn’t go back for a jacket. Days grew colder as December approached, yet none of it mattered.

As I made my way down the stairs, exhaling through my mouth and watching as my breath turned into mist, I realised that the second floor wasn’t high enough for the beautiful image of death I had envisioned to be plausible. There was no way my body would be crushed by a fall from this height. There was a risk of death if I landed head first and broke my neck, but the beauty I desired wouldn’t be there.

What a shame.

Turning right off the cobblestone path, the 2 p.m. sun hit my still-drowsy eyes, and I instinctively raised my left hand to shield them. The streets were dominated by the whistling wind, blowing on the rustling orange leaves fallen on the ground. The occasional sound of cars, a few streets away, broke this gentle harmony.

Turning right once again, it became even clearer how empty the streets really were. No one walked through on a Thursday afternoon, when they should be at work or school.

I loved this feeling.

A moment where only I was present. Only my footsteps were heard. No people there to judge me. Just the street and my thoughts.

I hated myself so much.

Nearing the convenience store, I turned twice more. Once to the left, leading me through a smaller street shaded by the houses on my left, and a last one to the right, bringing the store into sight on the right, along with the T-shaped intersection ahead.

This street was connected to a slightly busier one-way road going right, and beyond it, the park I planned on going to afterwards. Only the tops of trees peeked above the road, as it stood below street level.

I made my way to the store’s door. The chatter of people became audible, and more and more cars passed along the main road. The door opened as I approached, and the classic Seven-Eleven doorbell tone chimed.

“Irasshaimase,” said the clerk fairly unenthusiastically as I entered.

Without glancing at the clerk’s direction and completely ignoring its tone, I bobbed my head slightly and turned immediately to the right, passing through the magazine section, and headed over to the refrigerated food area.

The sheer variety of tempting food still baffled me, but I decided to stick to my bread and butter, the Chicken Cutlet with Sauce Sandwich, as I had for the last 7 months since moving here.

Now heading towards the register through the right-most aisle, I picked up the strange-looking white Coke that I had never seen anywhere else. I still didn’t know what differed between this one and the normal one, but it just felt right.

Not wanting to interact with the employee or stay in line while they checked the other person’s items, I opted for the self-checkout, changing the menu language and picking up a plastic bag.

As a stranger stepped up behind me, I shakily scanned the items and shoved them into the sack. I had nearly spent all of the allowance my parents sent me this month. Plastic bag in my right hand, I grabbed the change and receipt, then swiftly headed for the exit.

The door opened, and the bell rang again. My skin was met once more by the cold wind. I slid to the left, taking a moment to put the change in my wallet and toss the already crumpled receipt into the plastic sack at my feet.

I glanced up. Grey clouds filled the sky, bringing the already low levels of sunlight closer to zero.

It started to drizzle, which usually didn’t last long. The only real inconvenience would be a slightly wet bench in the park.

While waiting, I squatted down like the locals did, a low, balanced crouch I still wasn’t used to, but had been practising to blend in.

Then, a scream rang out from ahead of me, near the pavement on the opposite side of the busier road. It pierced the soft patter of droplets hitting the ground. A high-pitched shriek of rubber echoed across the street.

I lifted my head and began to push myself up.

Suddenly, time slowed to a crawl. A black car barreled towards me.

Frozen mid-motion, legs half-extended, I couldn’t move. Even though the world seemed so slow, I couldn’t do anything. No sound escaped my mouth.

The deafening crash of shattering glass erupted beside me as the car seemingly veered away. My shaky body burned with heat. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, and a sharp, high-pitched ringing clung to my left side.

Still disoriented, I finally managed to stand up. Time slowly crept back to normal.

Everyone on the street and in the store turned to look. They stared at me, not the wrecked car beside me. I could see their mouths moving, but I couldn’t hear anything. As if the prior ringing was extinguished and the rest of the world had been put on mute.

“Daijoubu desu…” I repeated, overwhelmed, unsure of what was being said, hoping to shift the focus of the situation away from me.

I tried to step out of the way when I suddenly lost my balance, being unable to take one full step without needing to firmly put my foot back on the ground.

Then, I looked down. The floor was bright red, covered in blood. Blood dripped down my clothes. I hesitantly turned my attention to my left arm.

It was completely crushed…

Every bone likely shattered…

Torn, just hanging there…

I couldn’t move it at all…

Blood gushed from every wound. Razor-like glass pieces pierced my arms, neck, and back, viciously tearing my flesh apart.

The pain I was ignorant of before kicked in all at once, making me let out loud cries. Gasping for air, I fell back to the ground, splashing in a pool of my own blood. I couldn't focus on anything. In a complete state of panic, nauseous, probably from blood loss, I feared the eyes of the people around me.

I tried to flee.

Each time I rose, I was knocked back down, unable to stay up. I bolted towards the park, dragging myself along the pavement. My left arm couldn’t hold me. Blood smeared everywhere I went.

Every attempt at grabbing me or pinning me down was futile. I kept shaking off death’s ice-cold grip, which clawed at me, trying to pull me down.

It was too early. This was all happening far too soon.

As I reached the main road, my blood washed down the street, surrendering to the current. The burning sensation on my left arm didn’t seem to calm down even with the cold touch of the rain. This wasn’t the image I had glorified.

Each second dragged, the pain seemed to worsen. My consciousness was slowly fading away. My vision was getting blurrier and blurrier, darker and darker, to the point where I could barely see anything before me. I kept moving forward, blindly feeling my way through the dark.

This was real fear. I was confronted by a sense of dread I had never felt. Death crept unprecedentedly close to me. The death I had longed for was finally at my doorstep, but I was scared. I was mortified. I didn’t want to die. Not anymore. Not since feeling all this pain firsthand.

“I don’t want to die!” I repeatedly shouted and cried. My chest heaved. My breath ran out each time.

“It’s too soon for me to die!” I screamed. “No! No! Not now!”

The pain was agonising.

Vomit rose to my mouth, but I swallowed it back. The sharp, acrid taste burned my throat. It stuck to me.

When I reached the pavement on the far side, darkness had entirely engulfed me. I was alone in a soundless and lightless world. My warmth had bled out, leaving only the freezing bite of rain.

“This isn’t what I wanted!” I cried. “Why? Why? Why is this…?”

I couldn’t think of anything at all. My thoughts were all jumbled together.

With the last bit of my strength, I grabbed what I thought was the guardrail before the park, clinging to the slim hope of survival I had left. Pressing all my weight against it, I fought to pull myself upright. Still trembling in fear, I finally stood again.

But I leaned too far. My feet slipped on the wet surface and I toppled over the edge.

I couldn’t tell whether the fall was long or if time was slowing down again. At this point, death was most certain, incapable of turning my body away from landing almost head first on the ground.

I hadn't even managed to write the letter to my parents. Would they mourn my death? I couldn’t tell. There was nothing I could do anymore. I just had to accept what was happening.

It was ironic. It was when I was the closest to death that I wished to live the most. I was oblivious to what I was searching for. I wanted another shot at life. I wanted a chance to turn my life around.

“I didn’t want to die after all…” I murmured with a nervous chuckle, before coming crashing down into the ground.