Trial 2 - 015 Memory Report

Trial 2 - 015 Memory report

Record no.5

The first time we meet, he looks messed up, and when I approach closer, it's seen that he's crying, so I joke with tenderness in my hoarse voice — I don't want to see someone pretty like this crying, and I sit there near him, and, maybe, my mere presence can calm him down a little bit — an unknown person. I can't touch, I can't ask, the most that is able to be done — share the pain in silence, solitude, with which the air is filled... The second time we meet, he already looks annoyed, and I can't help but find it funny — no way, so soon? Give me a chance! Actually, he looks messed up every day, every time that we meet. I don't want you to be hurt anymore... Let's talk about the little things, and hang out together, when you have spare time from being beaten up by someone else. I'm sorry, wording it like this makes me nauseous. You must be tired way too much, so rest in my arms when you feel comfortable enough. Cold, cold.  why would you go away ¿ ? . Actually, the first time we met, I immediately continued: But it's not that your appearance is the only thing that catches my attention, it is just the instant thought that came to my mind, to maybe reassure you a bit — because I'm a nice enough person, I don't give much importance to appearance. Why did I approach, then, it's only that, that... I felt lonely, I guess... why would you want to go away don't leave me here don't leave me here don't leave me here_$+??---(&$$_¥£-$$#€¢¥ππ÷{}}}¶=}¶×^|¢×

Record no.6

I wouldn't like to be no more than a marble wall... If you complain about the people close to you yet go back before I even come up with an answer, what is that supposed to mean? I'd prefer a reply. Ahh? You really hate being treated nicely, huh? Oh, no, no. I can't return to the bad habits.  It's the biggest honor for someone to consider me a refuge. I'm sorry I failed. I wanted to save you. It's a pity. You didn't deserve my kindness in the first place. I mean, if I haven't seen you up until then, who's to say you ever existed? Though, when I wake up, it feels a bit lonely still. How was it... No... It's not like I can remember…  The white of the school's fence… It was noisy, and my whole body went cold… I just didn't want to die.  It's a crime to get your life spared when you don't want to live either. 

Record no.7

Am I weird for that?  I wake up and I can't breathe. Are my words off? If merely my indifference can be harmful, I've got no way to live… Anyone can see, those who haven't noticed yet are soon to stop being quiet, and those who have noticed choose to not tell out of politeness. I have no excuses, so don't tell me. I'm tired of excuses, so stop asking me. You must be thinking I'm too superficial, a soft yet cold shell, or maybe you're thinking how to benefit yourself with my existence, or both, I don't know, I don't hear my words nor see my actions — so I can't guess what would be your response, the way you see me.  — I wish you could be in a better place. We were standing in some distant corner of the campus. I was holding his hand in my hands and looking into his eyes that were staring down.  — Me too. Yet we aren't born lucky enough. He probably wanted me to say, at least, “I wish I could take you out of there”. But I can't stand making empty promises anymore; I've lost count of them, I'm unable to bear the disgust. My words are capable of anesthetizing the pain, yet not healing; when the effect wears off, people realize all their bones were broken this whole time, and it's my fault, my fault. I don't hate you. I don't want to hate you. it's not your fault that I’m a weird one; you're an innocent soul that ended up in a way too cruel world. After I get beaten up by my own weeping enough, let me try again. I wake up and I can't breathe.  I don't rebel against the rules. I was always told that lies are bad; I’ve seen the way they get both the liar and those around them into trouble. So I've decided, if I can't say something with utmost confidence, I'd rather stay quiet — I don't want to cause even more pain, anymore. I don't want the other’s pain to be my fault. Even so, holding my hands over his, I take a deep breath; my words, cold and sweet and slightly biting like the taste of mint, are melting into the spring air: I've been as quiet as I could, and never allowed myself to feel hate for you — even so, why, why are you — I wish I could take you out of there. —why are you hurting me? Why are you hurting me? Why are you hurting me? Why are you hurting me? Why are you hurting me?