March 1, 1996

Being sick wasn't my choice, but in the end, my graduation was pushed back by a year.

Maybe graduating a year late means there's still time left to find an answer.

Is that really it?

How ridiculous.

I was waiting for the end, but the world keeps telling me to turn to the next page.

Everyone says the sea is refreshing. That your frustrations are washed away by the waves.

I still don't quite understand those words.

Come to think of it, I've never found a proper answer to anything. Not how to live, nor what I like.

People call spring a new beginning, but to me, spring was the season for dreaming of the end.

I quietly and repeatedly wait for graduation day. Along with the suicide planned for that day.