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Presenting these warm and tender provisions for the world
Once upon a time, a girl sat inside a theater, writing on her notebook as a movie played out before her.
It sounds like a pretty boring story, right? But not all stories start out with fairy tale beginnings, or with princesses locked up the highest room in the tallest tower, waiting for their dear prince to come. This is a normal, run-of-the-mill occurrence for most, though some people may wonder why she doesn't bother getting her money's worth and settles for doing something she could do elsewhere and another time.
But if this is any consolation, the girl herself is in a prison of some sort. Trapped in a place that is neither here nor there, in a state that isn't life or death, she sits and writes as certain events play out before her time and again. For this girl, there is no such thing as "elsewhere" and "another time"--only this endless reality which stands as her present.
This notebook is a refuge of a kind--an anchor to who she was, and what she thinks she wants to be. There's many she has come to understand in the depths of despair, then accept in the face of hope. Yet, all the same, there's some questions that remain unanswered, and those that remain uncertain, and with her time cut short both ways, will never get a satisfying explanation towards.
But for now, it seems, the girl is satisfied with grasping at who she once was, as with playing the role that was once set out for her. She has all the time in the world to think about these things, after all. Or at least until whenever the powers that be that brought her here decide that they've had enough with this lonely scenario and decide to shake things up in one or all possible directions.
As it stands, they haven't wasted any time in that regard, letting in a familiar presence in her midst after so long. It chills her at first, a reminder of her, and what they've both brought upon the world.
But there's a brightness that she's never associated with the aforementioned, and that's what gets her to smile as she pauses for a moment in her writing, then continues with the motion.
It's warm and cold. Both light and dark, hope and despair. Ideals to look up to and desire, but not quite found in the life she's lived. But something has to be said about living through others, and this, most especially, is no exception.
After all, a teacher can always be proud of their students, no matter the situation or time.
"Komaeda-kun," she says without looking up from her notebook, "It's been a while."
...
...Hmm.
...Right, I suppose I forgot to mention one thing--that girl is me, swaying listlessly as I go about the motions of playing the protagonist of this story called my life at present. If it could be called a life, that is. But I have to try, don't I?
It sounds like a pretty boring story, right? But not all stories start out with fairy tale beginnings, or with princesses locked up the highest room in the tallest tower, waiting for their dear prince to come. This is a normal, run-of-the-mill occurrence for most, though some people may wonder why she doesn't bother getting her money's worth and settles for doing something she could do elsewhere and another time.
But if this is any consolation, the girl herself is in a prison of some sort. Trapped in a place that is neither here nor there, in a state that isn't life or death, she sits and writes as certain events play out before her time and again. For this girl, there is no such thing as "elsewhere" and "another time"--only this endless reality which stands as her present.
This notebook is a refuge of a kind--an anchor to who she was, and what she thinks she wants to be. There's many she has come to understand in the depths of despair, then accept in the face of hope. Yet, all the same, there's some questions that remain unanswered, and those that remain uncertain, and with her time cut short both ways, will never get a satisfying explanation towards.
But for now, it seems, the girl is satisfied with grasping at who she once was, as with playing the role that was once set out for her. She has all the time in the world to think about these things, after all. Or at least until whenever the powers that be that brought her here decide that they've had enough with this lonely scenario and decide to shake things up in one or all possible directions.
As it stands, they haven't wasted any time in that regard, letting in a familiar presence in her midst after so long. It chills her at first, a reminder of her, and what they've both brought upon the world.
But there's a brightness that she's never associated with the aforementioned, and that's what gets her to smile as she pauses for a moment in her writing, then continues with the motion.
It's warm and cold. Both light and dark, hope and despair. Ideals to look up to and desire, but not quite found in the life she's lived. But something has to be said about living through others, and this, most especially, is no exception.
After all, a teacher can always be proud of their students, no matter the situation or time.
"Komaeda-kun," she says without looking up from her notebook, "It's been a while."
...
...Hmm.
...Right, I suppose I forgot to mention one thing--that girl is me, swaying listlessly as I go about the motions of playing the protagonist of this story called my life at present. If it could be called a life, that is. But I have to try, don't I?