Chapter 1: Prologue: The Storm Before The Calm.

When I was partially normal...?

Well to be more specific.... In health.

I was just a simple kid living on a farm with poor health in a large family, and I've been sick for as long as I could remember... I also have a weak personality, which adds to the ever-growing list.

But even if I was weak in every way possible, I was just happy with that outcome, you know?

And that's strange, isn't it?

I was genuinely alright with it, unlike some individuals who were disappointed in themselves for being so weak and feeble. To be honest, I like it a lot.

And you might be wondering... Why though? Well, the answer is really simple.

Because I was fine with being weak.

I was fine with all of the extra baggage too, like the package deal of being weak could ever bring to a person. 

Even with my family disagreeing with my viewpoints and my friends being saddened by my frail state. (Though being okay doesn't mean I wasn't dissatisfied in their assessment of me.) But that's just life; you can't really make it to meet your every desires, right?

Though I suppose my weakness was the cause of my death.

.

.

.

.

So let me explain all to you of my death.

And before you may roll your eyes at me. No, I didn't die because I was run-over by a god-damned truck.

I died by sickness.

So... Uh... If I explained it all to you clearly, you might be thinking I was a huge idiot afterwards...

But, since it's true, for me. I won't be offended.

Well... 

Starting.... 

From..

When,

When I was born, I wasn't allowed to drink my mother's milk. I'm not sure what kind of illness that is, but my relatives' response was that it was simply because I'm allergic to it...?

And, because I'm allergic to breast milk, I'm supposed to take shots (a syringe, to be precise; I'm too lazy to say injection. And I don't know if it's true or not. But that's what my family kept saying.. so yeah) every day.

You can imagine how upsetting it would be to see a baby getting shots on a daily basis (Which I'm still skeptical but the point still stand. I couldn't drink normal milk), and I'm sure hearing my heartbreaking sobs isn't helping my family keep calm either.

They were disturbed, which was understandable. As a result of this, they somewhat became a little overprotective.

But I got attention, so it wasn't all that bad.

So they asked the doctor to find a way for me to stop getting injections (which I do). As a result, the doctor prescribed an alternate solution and requested that my family purchase an artificial milk formula in order for me to survive.

And they did, despite the fact that it was expensive as hell, but I did get to live.

Maybe I was more prone to becoming sick because I didn't get enough nutrients from the milk I drank. And as a child, being locked in bed with a fever and vomiting the food that entered my mouth made me somewhat reclusive? I mean, I was always at home and had no friends until I started elementary school.

Yeah—... definitely became a reclusive and a shy kid. Great. That will subsequently turn into my weak personality later on.

Though my family's overprotective attitude toward me as a child subsided as I grew older, maybe because I wasn't as severely ill as before, they nevertheless forbade me from going outdoors alone or with my friends in case I had an accident outside.

And, whoo—this is where the story really becomes interesting. 

I wasn't getting fevers or vomiting anymore, but that didn't imply I was in good health.

Just because I don't physically look like I'm sick doesn't mean I'm not really sick. (No not mentally either. I ain't no psychopath.) Seems like I'm also sick in my inside, like a stomach problem or a disease on my organs.

I'd always feel full after only a few bites and drinks, my sides would always hurt, and I'd occasionally notice blood when coughing. I did tell my family when I was growing tired of this unknown sickness, but they dismissed me as a picky eater, to my surprise.

But I didn't stop telling them about my symptoms and making them look it up on the internet, and they still told me I was just paranoid and it would pass.

And, heh.... Oh boy—! did it pass!.

Since I've given up, I'll just wait for my illness to worsen and then show them that I'm truly unwell. I understand that doing so is idiotic and childish. I know I should've kept insisting on telling them about my condition, but... I suppose the reason I enjoy holding this grudge was—... Because... I want them to figure it out on their own and became overprotective or even caring, you know?

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Aren't I an idiot? You can already see how I died, can't you?

Heh. At the time, you couldn't believe their expressions. They were all terrified, frantically contacting an ambulance or getting help for me when I began vomiting on the table and blood began to stream out of my mouth like a faucet; as for me, I just sat there resisting the temptation to sleep as black spots danced around in my vision.

And before the darkness fell, I looked at my family's faces one final time, and seeing despair, remorse, dread, and regret all at once made me feel guilty for what I hadn't done.

I really should have continued to persuade them at that time.

And with my last breathe, all I can say at the time was..

".. Sorry for being weak."

And darkness soon follows.

__________

Location Change: ????

Somehow when I—

Woke up?

All I saw was destruction, a crater, and.....? Err....some girls my age with strange ass-costumes pointing dangerous weapons at...

Me!?

WHAT THE FUCK-!? 

WHY'S MY SOLEMN MOOD GONE!?

AND WHERE EVEN IS THIS!?

*Boom!

_________

Revised Date: May 18, 2022 - October 4, 2022

A/N: Not gonna lie, but I'm starting to like scribblehub... But it's still is confusing.

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