Looking up blankly at the darkening sky, tiny droplets of rain splattered on my cheeks, as if advising me to take shelter, to hide from the wrath of the gods. My brain kept shouting at me to go, and yet, as the coldness started to creep into my skin, making me shiver at the sudden assault caused by the downpour, my body won't even register the fact, my feet refusing to move even an inch.
I laughed bitterly, and the sound was drowned by the hurried steps of the people as the soles of their shoes crunched against the gravel. Maybe I'll just stand here and wait for my consciousness to slip away from me. After all, people wouldn't care if I just die right here, right now. To them, I am no one, a stranger, just another person they passed by on their way to school or to work. To them, my life and my death means nothing.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew I was being pitiful. People had died for far more grievous reasons: wars, murder, sickness, and through much much worse methods. Yet why am I acting like the sky had fallen on my shoulders? Like I am carrying the weight of the world?
I knew the answer, and I had always tried to deny it. But I guess I was getting tired of delaying the inevitable. I'm empty. I'm just a mere shell, an empty husk of the person I knew I was supposed to be. I should have been Hatsune Miku, the bubbly eldest daughter of the school chairman or the serious and studious daughter of the famous fashion model, but I was not. I was neither of the two.
I have no personality. I have no identity. I have nothing that makes me unique. Hatsune Miku was a person devoid of feelings. I am a robot, worse than one, actually.
I couldn't really see the purpose of my life. What exactly is the reason why I was born? What role am I supposed to fulfill? Should I be the person everybody expects Hatsune Miku to be? Should I keep putting up this facade?
My whole life I had been dictated on what to do and not do. I was not able to make my own decisions. I had long ago lost sight of my true wishes, desires. I was just another body molded to be something people are pleased with. My own likes and dislikes? Fears and hopes? They mean nothing. I was not my own person, I had never been.
"I'm useless... I should just... die." My voice rasped for I had not used it for a very long time now.
"Don't say that." I whipped around, finally regaining my senses, and saw a boy standing there. Just my age with dirty blond hair messed up by the wind. He was holding out an umbrella for me, shielding me from the harsh bites of the rain.
"Everybody has their own purpose."
His aquamarine eyes were twinkling, and in that moment, I couldn't have seen anything so beautiful in my whole life.
"You just have to look for it."