YonagoGuy
Sleeping Knight
- Nov 17, 2025
- 1
Quite a while I go I've decided to kill myself on a certain day. To be honest, I'm not sure if I'm truly going to go through it, but that's something that I guess I'll figure out. I wanted to write about my thoughts and feelings for like a page every day and I've started that project with 77 remaining. I didn't really keep to schedule and missed quite a lot of days, but I believe that this tale still has some worth. I'll be slowly posting the days I've already done (I need to translate them since English is not my first language) until I eventually catch up. As I'm writing this I'm on 59 days remaining. The whole thing is written from four different perspectives and I believe it's confusing as fuck, but I don't really care since it's a personal thing. I guess I'm just posting it there to leave a trace of my existence, however faint it may be. The four perspectives are First (pretty much myself, the human that suffers and has to live), Second (a weird idealised version of myself, more morally and emotionally sound), Third (my incarnation of courage and will to live) and Nameless (an observer that's just here to record my life). The whole thing is quite inconsistent, but I guess that's human life for ya.
77 days of history (Nameless)
His life started in the most boringly trivial way imaginable. We could, of course, detail every aspect of it to better understand this tale, but for the sake of avoiding myself a completely futile endeavour, I won't even deign to do as much. I'm someone that observes the world, I don't have any interest in narrating it or even understanding it. As long as I'm capable of feeling its emotions, that's more than enough. However, I've been embarked against my will on this ungrateful task of describing the last days of the one that allows me to exist. I'm pretty confident that a good number of people would have done a much better job than me, but alas.
Let's cease to waste our time and let's go straight to the point. That man had accumulated a horrendous amount of suffering. Quite contrary to what common sense would lead us to believe, he was the sole culprit for his pain. Some would say that the circumstances of his life didn't help, but in the end he could only blame himself for it. My words might seem harsh, but such is reality, cold and shameless. The evil that was consuming him mainly came from his inability to understand the world and, above everything else, the people who surrounded him. He couldn't help himself from falling in love, to bond, to hate and much more, the universe couldn't care less and his idiot of a brain struggled a fair bit to keep up the pace.
During his relatively short life he has endured much to survive his own self-destructive urges and, to be honest, he has done quite a fine job of it. Unfortunately, a long time ago he promised something that he swore to accomplish. Around ten years ago, he chose the number of pages of his tale, before even writing it for real. It's quite an uncommon way to motivate oneself, I must admit, but it turned out surprisingly effective. Still, it's his bright will to live that encouraged him to keep pushing forward, facing up against all the hardships life threw at his face. If only his will to die wasn't just as strong, we might not be here right now…
He wished above anything else to no longer be a soulless entity wandering around the world, he wanted to take back his existence and do whatever he wanted with it. He had enough of letting himself be carried by the flow and, inspired by his childhood heroes, he wanted to forge his own fate. Nevertheless, a burning desire does not protect ourselves from suffering, far from it. At best, it can make it more bearable, but his will to live and to truly experience his own emotions condemned him to an existence of sorrow and pain. Yet, he accepted it fully, and so he endured it all in silence until the sword of Damocles above his head would finally deign to fall.
77 days of history (Nameless)
His life started in the most boringly trivial way imaginable. We could, of course, detail every aspect of it to better understand this tale, but for the sake of avoiding myself a completely futile endeavour, I won't even deign to do as much. I'm someone that observes the world, I don't have any interest in narrating it or even understanding it. As long as I'm capable of feeling its emotions, that's more than enough. However, I've been embarked against my will on this ungrateful task of describing the last days of the one that allows me to exist. I'm pretty confident that a good number of people would have done a much better job than me, but alas.
Let's cease to waste our time and let's go straight to the point. That man had accumulated a horrendous amount of suffering. Quite contrary to what common sense would lead us to believe, he was the sole culprit for his pain. Some would say that the circumstances of his life didn't help, but in the end he could only blame himself for it. My words might seem harsh, but such is reality, cold and shameless. The evil that was consuming him mainly came from his inability to understand the world and, above everything else, the people who surrounded him. He couldn't help himself from falling in love, to bond, to hate and much more, the universe couldn't care less and his idiot of a brain struggled a fair bit to keep up the pace.
During his relatively short life he has endured much to survive his own self-destructive urges and, to be honest, he has done quite a fine job of it. Unfortunately, a long time ago he promised something that he swore to accomplish. Around ten years ago, he chose the number of pages of his tale, before even writing it for real. It's quite an uncommon way to motivate oneself, I must admit, but it turned out surprisingly effective. Still, it's his bright will to live that encouraged him to keep pushing forward, facing up against all the hardships life threw at his face. If only his will to die wasn't just as strong, we might not be here right now…
He wished above anything else to no longer be a soulless entity wandering around the world, he wanted to take back his existence and do whatever he wanted with it. He had enough of letting himself be carried by the flow and, inspired by his childhood heroes, he wanted to forge his own fate. Nevertheless, a burning desire does not protect ourselves from suffering, far from it. At best, it can make it more bearable, but his will to live and to truly experience his own emotions condemned him to an existence of sorrow and pain. Yet, he accepted it fully, and so he endured it all in silence until the sword of Damocles above his head would finally deign to fall.
