I am weary.
Since the days when I left those months, filled with guilt and loneliness only the outcast can feel, I have had a constant headache, from a gentle throbbing just beneath my forehead to a violent beating on all parts of my skull from the inside. When I speak, it chastises me with a thump upon my temple. When I listen to others talking, it punishes me with a punch to my head. When I walk, it hits me twice for every two steps I take, and thrice for every three. Every movement, every thought, every breath is somehow worthy of punishment.
I am so weary.
I have nothing to gain by working hard, by studying for test scores, by interrupting my taking it easy. To be stressed with the responsibilities of a normal life is to feel annoyance from the very depths of your heart to your extremities. For this life of mine, to live everyday with listless habits, to have a rote life so I may take it easy until my mind fails me, to have the chance to rest and enjoy my life before I get to rest and enjoy my death, that is what I want out of this life of mine. I have no need for a lover, nor for children, nor for a big house with a white picket fence.
I just want to take it easy.
I want to have a place to sleep that isn't infested by bugs and vermin. I want to have food to eat that isn't rotten. I want to have water to drink and bathe in that is constantly clean. I want to have an unlimited, high-speed internet connection and a computer with a large hard drive.
I don't care for respectability in society's eyes, nor for stressing my own self with worries about bills, about dealing with people, about high scores for future prospects, or about survival.
I just want to be alone, and I want to take it easy.
Pity I have no proof that Balamb Garden exists.
Though, to my memory, that was a military academy, wasn't it?