Chapter 2

This is a weird topic to start off from, but everyone wants to live, right? Well, at least every normal person wants to live, so that can be considered everyone to an extent.

Sometimes you’ll hear stuff like “I wanna die.” or “Just kill me!” from people, and office workers.

…

Mostly office workers actually.

Well anyway, what I want to say is that every person wants to live even if they keep saying that they want to die. They are just hiding it or unconsciously want to live.

Or… that’s what I’d say if I wasn’t lying.

Every so often, a certain someone does exist.

Someone who truly doesn’t want to live.

In anime or other media, these types of people are usually referred to as those with some sort of ‘dead fish’ eyes, don’t they? Not to say that all dead fish eyes people want to die though.

Actually, do those dead fish eyes even exist in real life? I can’t really tell since I’ve never seen someone with them, but they might exist?

Though I can’t be bothered enough to actually find them, so let’s move on.

You’ll think that those who want to die would just take their life on the spot, right?

Hmm, actually that might be true, but not completely though.

Why? Well, because I am still here…

Ah yeah, that sounds confusing, but to elaborate, I’m also someone who wants to die.

…

Wow, now that I think about it, saying it like that really sounds cringe and edgy…

Oh well, not that it matters, it wasn’t wrong anyway. I do want to die.

Why? Well, I just don’t want to live, there’s not really a grand reason for it.

Even if there is a reason, I guess the best I can say is that I just got tired of trying and trying again.

When you no longer want to try, you no longer want to do anything, and when you no longer want to do anything, you might as well be in a state of death. Every living being has to do something to prove that they are alive after all.

Doing nothing is still considered doing something because that’s slacking off? Ugh, please don’t use logic against me, I don’t want to think too hard, so just take what I say as the truth because I said so.

Yeah, just take it as the truth because I said it’s the truth.

I had to repeat it twice just to highlight why it’s important, so please follow.

…Anyway, if I don’t want to live that badly, why am I still alive? The answer to that question is:

Guilt is a bitch.

No matter how much I don’t care about my own well being, I still can feel guilty, you know?

I’d feel guilty about leaving my family members who worked their hardest to try and support someone like me. Though of course, I have no idea if they are only doing it out of obligation and image or because they truly care about me, but the guilty side of me keeps thinking that it’s the latter.

It would be nice if it was the former though…

Well, if it was, they probably would’ve already wanted me gone. It’s surprisingly easy to disown a child once they are above 18 years old, you know?

So because of this guilt of mine, it’s pretty much impossible for me to take my own life. Ah but of course, it’s not the same as wanting to live, so don’t get it mixed up.

It’s funny isn’t it? The only thing keeping me alive is my guilt for others’ well being instead of my own. I didn’t know that I was such a selfless person.

Actually I do know, just not for the greatest of reasons.

There’s a quote from a certain popular superhero movie in 2018, which was “I guide others to a treasure I cannot possess.” or something?

My thought process was somewhat similar to that, only difference being, I don’t particularly do it to feel good or anything.

I just help others because it makes me feel like I’m actually doing something, even if it’s only an illusion.

A happy illusion is just a waste of time, but immersing yourself in a little bit of that illusion won’t hurt you much.

People still consume alcohol even if they know of its side effects. It’s the same in this regard.

But yeah, that’s why I am still alive despite not really wanting to live.

As for the others who also don’t really want to live… No clue. I only really know myself, so how would I know if they’re the same as me or not?

Though, if I had to guess, they would probably be in a somewhat same boat as me.

After all, the other part of those who want to die are already…

Well, I’ll leave that up to your interpretation.

To put it bluntly, my aversion to death is pretty much nonexistent. Speaking of which, I got a great story to explain this.

I think it was back when I was 17 years old or something close? Either way, it was during a time where I was starting to understand my own feelings.

I almost got into a traffic accident with a drunk driver back then.

Emphasis on ‘almost’, I narrowly avoided the car before it could hit me. Actually, that’s wrong. It was the driver who narrowly avoided me.

I was going outside to sort out my thoughts and before I knew it, I saw a car heading towards the side of the road where I was standing.

The driver did notice and managed to avoid a vehicular manslaughter charge, but it was still too late.

In the end, I wasn’t hit but the car still crashed and the driver died.

The authorities found cans of alcohol within the wreckage of the car which suggested signs of drunk driving, but the offender was already dead, so not much could be done about it.

As for me, the almost-to-be-victim of the incident, I was shocked, but not for the normal reasons.

Although the car narrowly avoided me, it still was too close for comfort. Any normal person would’ve at least froze up and had their life flashing before their eyes.

But that didn’t happen to me, I was calm, eerily calm. Even if the car did crash into me, something told me that I would still be calm and accept a death like that.

That fact really shocked me and made me feel like I stopped being a person.

After completing the lengthy and annoying procedure regarding the accident, I went back home just as usual, with an added concern from my family due to the car crash.

Later that night around 2 to 3 am, when everyone was asleep, I snuck into the kitchen and tried to recreate the situation.

I picked up a knife and tried stabbing my arm.

It hurt, but that was all.

It only hurts.

It didn’t feel like I needed to stop, as if no alarms would sound if I had kept going.

I tried putting the knife up to the side of my neck, needless to say, the result was the same.

I was fully in control and didn’t even unconsciously try to stop myself. If anything, it was the same as the time during the crash.

I was scarily calm.

It felt like I could really end my life back there, and that thought scared me so much that I instantly stopped.

Thinking back, I really do resent that driver and my past self.

I resented the driver because he could’ve been less responsible and dragged me in that accident.

Then again, he wouldn’t know that he would die in the aftermath, and any normal person would want to avoid committing any crimes unless they really have to, so it’s merely a selfish resentment.

I resented my past self for his incompetence, if he only had even a shred of my current personality, maybe I could’ve really died.

But that’s that. It’s only resentment, and that resentment can’t change the outcome.

Still, it was a shame.

Enough immersing myself in a what-if story, what I wanted to say was…

…

Actually, there’s nothing to say, I don’t know why I even shared that story to be honest…

Haha… if this was a story, it would totally deter all readers, wouldn’t it?

Ah yeah, the aversion to death thing… My bad, I have a tendency to forget things alongside my natural stupidity.

Well now that it was explained, I guess it’s time to move on to why I talked about all of these things.

It’s nothing special, just that my life genre updated from tragedy to tragedy + terminal illness.

So after listening to my rambling, you’ll think that I’m happy about that change.

And you would be right, I am happy… or was happy.

It all started when I woke up today.

A familiar ceiling.

Well it should be familiar, it was my room after all.

What wasn’t familiar however, was the sensation of waking up.

If I wasn’t misremembering stuff (which I always did…), the doctor told us that realistically I would die today, so waking up knowing that was a strange feeling.

Well, it was fine, maybe the doctor was slightly wrong or that he meant that I would die later during the day, so I figured it wasn’t bad.

Even if I was going to die, having to wait for it while being bedridden was really annoying. Thankfully, I have a phone, so I wasn’t really all that bored.

…

So yeah, it was 6:46 AM when I woke up. Awfully early for someone like me, but I wasn’t a stranger to waking up on unconventional times.

But what was strange was the sensation of my body.

It might be obvious to everyone, but I don’t exactly have the healthiest body.

Sometimes it would hurt for no reason and other times just breathing in feels heavy.

But today, I felt strangely… energetic and lively?

I didn’t know why, but it may be something like receiving a sudden boost of energy before dying? I think it was called terminal lucidity or something?

I don’t remember too well about it, but I think I knew from doomscrolling on Youtube?

Ah, either way, it was good for me, so I got up to bed and tried to wash my face to refresh myself.

I could walk strangely well, which was a welcomed thing. Even if I wanted to die, I can’t deny that having a healthy body is much better than a suffering one.

So being content with not suffering, I happily (emotionlessly) walked towards the bathroom and…

That’s when I saw her in the mirror.

In the mirror, the reflection that could be seen wasn’t that of an emotionless dying man, but instead, an emotionless beautiful cold girl.

“Who… the hell are you?”

***

Thankfully, humans are creatures of adaptation, so I quickly regained my composure and realized what happened.

An uncommon trope in story media (usually novels) known as gender bender or better yet: TS

Simply put, I lost the pride to call myself a man (not that I had any to begin with) and became a delicate, fair girl.

Which was—

“Meh…”

—Honestly not really a big deal.

I didn’t really care too much about me being a man or woman in the first place. Why the hell would a dying person care about genders? Not that I would even be in a relationship.

And to add on, there is some merit in this situation.

“Hmm, I look pretty.”

Yeah, being pretty is always a nice thing. Like how men sometimes select and play as female characters in a game because they are beautiful.

In this case, it’s not playing but literally becoming the female character, but the essence is still the same thing, isn’t it?

Everyone wants to look good in their own way, and just like that, I received a cheat code for good looks.

Not that my previous male self was considered ugly, if anything, I think I was called somewhat good looking, but of course, my clumsy self ruined any good image of me that remained.

But my current female self is undeniably more beautiful than my past self. It felt like what my twin sister would look like if I had a twin sister.

“Ouch, that hurt.”

I tried to pitch my cheek to see if it was a dream or not (mostly because it felt like what a character in my situation would do), and of course, it wasn’t a dream.

The girl reflected in the mirror emotionlessly winced in pain, indicating that it was very well in fact, real.

Well, it would’ve been weirder if it was a dream. Imagining myself as a woman in my own dream? I am suicidal but I rather not be labelled as a pervert too…

“Hmm… either way, this doesn’t really change much now, does it?”

Having to show up like this and somehow explain to my family would be a hassle, but it wouldn’t be too bad, since I’d likely still die.

And to be honest, dying as a beautiful girl would leave behind a better image, wouldn’t it?

“Humu… definitely better.”

Yep, definitely better.

…

What the hell am I even thinking about…

Wasting time on this was already bad enough, but to think I would be delusional enough to rate my own face…

I am no narcissist but that way of thinking is no different from a narcissist, really.

Ugh, can’t imagine liking myself… If I did, I wouldn’t want to die to begin with.

“Oh well, I should get back to washing—”

Click