I actually like reading power-fantasy stories, and I like writing them too, but when it comes to my own life, I really can’t write one. I just feel like my life is heading for a Bad Ending. It can’t be that my family is scraping by with odd jobs, going into debt to put me through school — even though relatives have chipped in tens of thousands for tuition and living expenses — and I still end up with no good job and no future. It can’t be that every day feels empty, boring, depressing, painful, and unfulfilling. It can’t be that when I’m dragged out to have fun, the smile on my face is just forced.
Fortunately, it wasn’t until I got to university that I realized my life would probably end in a Bad Ending. If my younger self — before middle school — had known all this, that “there’s no hope of anything getting better,” I would have fallen into an even deeper despair.
So my mindset has changed. Every goal I set during my middle school years now seems somewhat laughable. If I went back, I probably wouldn’t achieve such great results or become the good student and inspirational role model I was in the eyes of my classmates and teachers back then.
My Normal Ending is: find a place far from anyone who has ever known me throughout my life, rent a small room, and live the life I’ve always talked about wanting.
I wish my family could just forget about me, as if this second child never existed. Not in the family household, not in the wider clan — as if this person simply doesn’t exist. After all, I’m a second child, and I’ve never felt very important growing up. I’ve never felt like I had any particular purpose. Sometimes I even feel like I’m just a burden.
If my entire life, ever since I was sent away to be raised by others, was destined for a Bad Ending — well, I’ve already done everything in my power to change its trajectory.