I sat beside my own unconscious body, still lying on the hospital bed. The room was silent, except for David sitting beside me, his voice calm and steady.
"If you need someone to talk to," he said gently, "I'm here. A moment like this doesn't come twice. Speak about yourself — it's the first rule of finding meaning."
I didn't respond right away. I wasn't sure I could. But his words didn't leave me. They lingered, settled in my chest.
And then, I began to speak — not because I wanted to, but because I needed to.
"My parents…" I started, my voice low, brittle. "They only looked at me when I did something perfectly. I was invisible unless I achieved something. A high grade. An award. A flawless performance. That's when they remembered they had a son."
I clenched my hands.
"They never asked what I was going through. Only what I could prove. If I didn't measure up, they punished me. Hit me. Took away my meals. They made me starve until I did something that made them proud again. It was like I didn't exist unless I was perfect."
I felt my throat tighten.
"They never hugged me out of love. They hugged the achievement, not the boy who earned it. I hated that life. I hated it with everything I had. But I followed the path they forced me into — because what choice did I have?"
David sat silently, letting every word sink into the space between us.
"Over time… the mistakes disappeared. I buried them. Not because I learned, but because I couldn't afford them. I began to see people and wonder — Do I look perfect enough for them?
So I built a rule. Not mine — theirs.
Mistakes are forbidden. Only perfection deserves existence.
A simple slip is doom. A flawless task is salvation."
I looked down at the hospital floor. I wasn't crying, but I felt hollow — like the tears had long since dried out inside me.
"And so I kept walking. Forgetting who I was. Forgetting who I wanted to be. The person I dreamed of becoming… he never came. He wasn't allowed to come. All I ever wanted was love.
I hated money.
I wanted happiness.
I hated being alone.
But what could I do? What did I do?"
I shook my head bitterly.
"Nothing. I just sat there — like a puppet. A damned puppet pulled by strings they tied around me since I was a child."
David remained silent, respectful. Letting me spill it all.
"I shut my wife out. The only person who tried to love me. I hurt Mark — the only son I'll ever have.
And now… I see it. I see it all.
Everything I did wasn't a path to perfection — it was a path to my own destruction."