The hope in me…
it died slowly.
Not with fire,
but with silence.
As I sank into misery,
I stopped believing that joy existed—
not for someone like me.
Not in a world that shut its light
the moment I reached for it.
Maybe I was stubborn.
A fool.
A dreamer without the spine to chase what he longed for.
I made my fate my truth.
I wrapped myself in loneliness,
in emptiness,
until it became my identity.
This is who I am.
Not a name. Not a soul.
Just a hollow existence.
A shell crafted by sorrow,
defined by regret.
Even when people tried to reach me,
even when they loved me…
I turned my back.
I made myself blind.
I convinced myself it was better this way.
I told myself:
They're better off without me.
So I killed my desires.
I buried my heart.
I became the cold thing I feared,
the one who doesn't feel,
the one who forgot what love meant.
The one who only speaks the language of pain and guilt.
The man who once dreamed…
forgot how to.
And time—
time never stopped punishing me.
The fate I embraced
was never destiny.
It was a curse.
And so began the story
of the forgotten one.
The one cursed with breath.
The one who would fall deeper than death.
The one who would live on
when all else turned to dust.
And yet…
Years later,
I found something unexpected:
People.
People who admired me.
People who loved me.
People who stayed—
even after seeing the monster I believed I was.
They saw me.
And they stayed.
Even when I told them to leave.
Even when I treated them like shadows.
Even when I used them
to carve a path soaked in grief.
They never left.
They never hated.
They never stopped calling me human.
I was stunned.
Could love survive in a place so dark?
Could this cursed soul still be saved?
For a moment—
I hoped.
For a moment—
I dreamed of a family.
Of a home.
Of warmth I could live for.
But the heavens and hell were watching.
And they answered.
No.
The curse would not break.
One by one,
I lost them.
Some died.
Some disappeared.
Some were taken from me—
violently, cruelly.
And I stood there,
helpless.
Cursed.
I screamed at the stars:
"Why me? Why must I survive while they fall?"
I drowned again.
Deeper than before.
The light was gone.
The hope turned into poison.
The love became guilt.
Every breath became a sentence.
I asked:
Was it because of me?
Was I the reason they suffered?
Is this curse not just mine—but theirs too?
Am I not meant to be loved?
Not meant to feel anything but agony?
Is this what I was born for—
to live,
while everything I love dies?
So I prayed.
Not for hope,
but for death.
Every night,
I closed my eyes hoping I wouldn't open them again.
I begged—
Let me vanish.
Let my soul rot away, unheard, unseen.
Let me die in a world that never wanted me to live.
But the world…
the cruel, silent world…
left me alive.
And I lived on,
only for one reason:
Them.
The ones who loved me.
The ones who, even in their final breath,
chose me over themselves.
They told me to live.
To keep breathing.
To not give up—even if they weren't there anymore.
And now…
I don't know if their love
was a blessing I never deserved,
or a punishment I must carry—
to live with the weight of their memory
etched into my soul.
I wish I cherished them sooner.
I wish I loved them louder.
Maybe then…
I would've known joy—
not for a moment,
but for a lifetime.
Maybe then…
this curse wouldn't feel
so endless.