I don't believe in "chance". I believe the concept is nothing more than a form of coping mechanized by those who are simply less fortunate than others. Yet, it seemed all of this came back to bite me right up the ass.
I was a simple woman. I worked, slept, drank, and wept light novel characters and read Yuri a majority of the time. A true, cultured fujoshi! At Least I was better than my worthless scumbag of a brother, as much as that's worth... How did I die?
Suicide! From my positive writing skills, it might not seem like I was too depressed, but I was! The Japanese workforce is a horrible space, as it is. The side-hobbies couldn't help me anymore, and throwing a crumbling relationship, college debts, and all of that into the mix...
You may just think, 'Well, why didn't you go to your parents? Why not ask them for help?'
Well, my mother died, and my father is too busy. Yes, he's too busy to care for his children sometimes. Well, it's not like I'm 12 anymore. He most likely expects me to just take care of myself.
Though, sometimes, I wish I spent more time with him, understanding him. For some reason, it feels as if I can't remember a single thing about the man who raised me. It feels almost paradoxical, since he felt like he was always there, like a watchman, yet at the same time, I can't remember a thing about him being there in my life.
To think I went to college for education and writing, just for all of my novels to be shot down and to be fired from teaching. Quite hilarious, is it not?
Thus, I laid hanging from the ceiling fan, awaiting the day someone might find me. Quite a boring, bland ending, is it not?
I believe the most boring stories are stories where you don't understand a thing about a character before they even start. So, let me tell you a bit about me, more than my simple side hobbies!
My name is (or was) Shiori Satou. As you might have been able to guess from my name and hobbies, I had an odd obsession with books, ever since I was a child, and my entire life, I had always merely been an assistant. Nothing more, nothing less. I was remarkable, yet simply overshined because I…
I guess I was plain. Standing out was never my strong suit, nor did it ever really "appeal" to me. Sitting in the back with a book in my hands was quite the more appealing than doing make up or anything.
Well, those who put some effort into showing out got the good end of life. Meanwhile, those like me and those who put too much effort into standing out really got the pointy end of the stick… haa.
I wasn't bullied per say, but minus when testing came around, I was often forgotten. At Least that's what I think. Honestly, I think my luck ran out past high school.
As soon as I graduated university, I went to apply for a school teacher position in a high school. Yet, I couldn't even get that. Instead, that role went to this slightly older woman, which, congrats to her, and I got made into an ALT. Eventually, they laid me off because "They simply didn't need me." And so, I was out of a job once more!
I tried my hand at writing novels but failed miserably to get published. I did decently online, but decently wasn't enough to get a publisher to mass produce my stories, much to the distaste of my fans, the few I had. To those people, I really appreciate you all, even after death. Love you!
So, I took my losses as losses and began to work an office job. All good! My coworkers were not creeps, and the work to pay ratio was decent! And overtime wasn't that bad! That was, until a literal majority of the company began to up and quit. Would I say it was out of nowhere? Nope. See, the only reason why I had such a fun time was because I was a newbie. I didn't really get to see the harsh reality behind the job until after everybody around me had already quit. I was then thrown abruptly into the very, very adult world of overtime and low pay or pay cuts with no free time to do what I actually enjoyed doing. Not fun. Not fun at all.
For someone who was never trying their hardest to be the prettiest, who was somehow unfortunate enough to end up in a situation like this, the only saving grace I had at the end of the tunnel was my boyfriend.
If there was one person who made me happy, it was him. Just being around, him was enough to make me happy for at least two days. I'd put in double hours just so I could go home and sleep with him. Play with his hair.
I loved that relationship, and if there's one thing I regret, it was not telling him till the very end that I truly, truly loved him.
Did he cheat on me? Nope. Just fell out of love, that simple. We had been dating for years, and he just didn't feel the spark anymore. Safe to say, that was my last straw.
I halted all plans, put in my resignation letter, and withdrew all of the money I had stockpiled up since the day I became an adult. A measly 1,000,000¥. Not the most prideful amount of money, especially when it's the last money you'll ever presumably spend in your lifetime, I know.
I went around Japan, and spent some time in America, before returning home, and sealing the deal. Just like that.
I didn't die happy. Nor did I "truly" die miserable. I just died bored. I was never allowed to actually live the life I truly desired. Although, my true desired life, as a nerd, would be a world where I can live in peace and die reading a novel or two.
Maybe if I had tried harder, I wouldn't have resorted to killing myself. Maybe. It's always been "Maybe this…" or "Maybe that…" me. Never "I should".
You know, I should have spent more time with my father. I should have tried harder to get a good job. I should have spent time going out and about with my boyfriend. I should have done all of these things, but I didn't.
I took it all for granted. I wasn't 'unlucky', I was just fucking stupid. I had all these brains, the degree, the knowledge, yet I couldn't see what was so important, when it was right in front of me. I should have done more with my life, instead of having been moping around all the time, acting as if the world was out to get me.
No, I was simply out to betray myself, whether I knew it or not.
I never really reached my full potential. I never tried to. Nothing ever stopped me but myself. I could have been so great, yet I really allowed myself to fall behind because of a few hurdles. I should have kept trying, over and over and over again, until I finally succeeded.
I can't stop myself now. It's funny, how killing myself is the only thing I ever truly did to '100'. I actually finished it. I finished something. I never even finished reading most novels. I couldn't bring myself to, for most of them. Not because I didn't want to see the end, but because I felt like I either didn't deserve to, or I lost my interest.
Just why did I have to be such a quitter? Why could I never truly dedicate myself to something, no matter how small it was? Why did I always think everything would just end up being useless?
Why am I so pessimistic?
If there's such a thing as a second chance, a second life, I swear… I swear that I'll try harder. I won't quit at any small obstacles. I won't hold back anger, and I won't hold out from my family because I think they don't love me. Just please, let me try again.
My tiny bit of asphyxiation and oxygen that was literally managing all of these thoughts finally ran out, as I felt the world around me dim out harsher than before. I guess this is the tried-and-true feeling of death. No more living for me.