Your death is near... thud, thud, thud.
Ha ha... ha. Fear looms over this sullen face.
Why won't these whispers stop chasing me?
I am falling into the ceiling, becoming the silence itself.
In a loud voice—the one you made crazy, you call him crazy? Ha ha ha! Ma... Pa... Ah... Betrayal.
1791 days, 28 mornings have passed. Was that not the truth? Who was that 'other me'? I was found lying unconscious that day. I saw myself dead. Was... was that the truth?
I'll go mad like this. A sharp gust of wind.
Why is there so much noise outside? I should go out and see. Along with the wind, a letter flies in and lands on the table near the house window.
It seems like a private matter; I'm going back inside. Thud, thud... the sound of boots often echoes. I head toward my room via the stairs. Creeeeak...
The door opens, and I sit down on the bed.
Ha... suddenly, my eyes fall on the open drawer of the table. When did I leave this open? Just as I go to close the drawer, I see a note. Upon opening the note, a question to myself—is this true? You are trapped within your own creation. You are trapped in the destiny you wrote. You are trapped in the world you wrote. In a loud and resonating voice: This is your truth.
......