The halved century- written pieces

Into Oblivion // Suicide note

TW: implied unaliving attempt, hanging

Character: Ander An

I... feel liberated. Feel, huh? I ridicule people for their morals, but now, I myself have also succumbed to them. Is this how "Holy" feels like? If so, maybe I shouldn't blame them for indulging in such fake beliefs.

They won't care about me if I don't fit their idyllic labels, so this is the only option. What even is the point of living? I can't handle how society works, and I won't be able to in the future. I can't stand working for something fake. Who made this "work and achieve" thing anyway? Everything still traces back to our emotions. Without them, nothing would've progressed; but with it, everything is a torturous loop. Nothing makes sense after a while.

I am a coward, it is the only label that rings true to my ears. I am only a burden to anyone I've met. Once you know the truth, nothing can go back. No, I am neither "hardworking" nor I am "lazy", I am just a mass existing within what us humans have created- A paradox. A paradox? Wait, no- that's a label. The world is what it will be, it will only respond to itself. I cannot define it with something made up like language.

Perhaps, when I lose consciousness, I'll play god like I used to do. I'll create my own world with delusions and facades, so I can become human. I'll still gain warmth, just not in this dimension. Or maybe I'll just vanish forever.

I'll need to be quick, the warmth is already reaching out to me. As to this world- well, who cares? I am one out of billions, earth has enough people to be severely polluted. Although small, my disappearance will have the greatest impact because I'll be gone. I won't consume any more oxygen in the air to stress out the plants. It's ironic, to see my insignificance outweigh my talents.

I lived only to fall in vain, I guess. Goodbye to something that makes sense.

The chicken is still in the fridge, mom. You can eat it yourself.