psyche

Yes, I am ruined and I am here again. For all my complaints and motions against the enemy’s flaws, it has struck me down and charged me however many thousand yen it takes to kill an adult whale. No-one could tell me if I could be like the others! Don Jaime de Astarloa spins in his grave as I lose again and again. My heart blackens in the face of even petty adversity. However, tick, tock; I will never be all alone. I might just pull through.

“Hold your trump card till the end!” yells some purple-haired young-but-old man. What a joke! I didn’t realise that the whole world smiled cutely and lured me into complacency while preparing to strike. Now I do and let it be known that I will fight - I will actually fight - to beat this down. I put myself back together and next time is never.

I don’t even know what you want when you evangelise about your own power. Sometimes, I must confess, I want to shout. There is no way I can get A*s in every exam, by the way. Sure, everyone says it won’t matter, but if it doesn’t matter, why even try? For sport? Then it does matter, at least a little. This double-standard-mania-death should embarrass all of you! I will strive never to make you deceitful windmills proud. Never. I will die a number! I LIKE DYING A NUMBER. Make some room.

Hand me down. It’s better when I’m not around. I feel good and I look like I should, but I could never make you proud.
Pax