Despite his rejection, Mother remained steadfast, her eyes now brimming with tears. Her voice trembled with emotion as she spoke, her words punctuated by sobs.
"No, I'm not going to leave you alone like this," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "How did you become like this? You've lost so much weight, and your eyes look lifeless. How could this happen to you?"
As I listened to my mother's words, I knew that she was right. At that moment, I was lost and unsure of what my next move should be. The overwhelming feeling of helplessness consumed me, and I had been feeling this way for a long time, ever since the day I was disowned. Mother had always tried to reach out to me, but I had refused to let her in. The food she left outside my door remained untouched, the once delicious aroma now becoming stale and unappetizing.
As the days passed, my health began to deteriorate. It wasn't a surprise to anyone, including myself. My refusal to eat and take care of myself had taken a toll on my body, and the physical consequences were beginning to show. But even in the face of my declining health, I couldn't seem to find the motivation to change. I had lost all hope, and the future seemed bleak and without purpose.
In that moment, I was resigned to my fate, convinced that I was destined to be a failure for the rest of my life. The pain and suffering that I had endured had robbed me of any sense of purpose, and I couldn't see a way out of the darkness that had enveloped me.
Mother's voice trembled with emotion as she pleaded with me, "Leon, please don't let this happen to you. I'm begging you, don't do this to yourself." Her tears flowed freely down her face as she implored me to take care of myself.
Despite her tearful and heartfelt plea, however, my past self was completely unresponsive.
"L-Look here, I brought you your favorite food," she said, placing the plate of food right in front of him. But despite her efforts, it was clear that my past self was beyond consolation. His eyes were empty, devoid of any spark of life or interest. He stared blankly ahead, as if the plate of food didn't even exist.
Despite my past self's lack of response, my mother continued to try and feed him. "C-Come on, Leon. Eat it while it's still hot," she urged him, her voice tinged with desperation.
My past self finally looked down at the plate of food in front of him, but his eyes remained empty and devoid of any emotion. It was as if he was looking at the food without truly seeing it.
"No, just leave..." he said, his voice hoarse but audible.
But despite his pleas, Mother stood firm, refusing to leave him alone.
"I won't leave," she said, her voice sounding desperate. "I know it's hard, but you have to try. You can't keep living like this, Leon. You can't keep denying the reality of your situation and refusing to take care of yourself. You have to eat, you have to take care of your health. You can't just give up like this."
"I said leave!!!"
My past self appeared to have been at the end of his rope with the constant pushing and pulling from my mother. His emotions reached a boiling point and he let out a gut-wrenching scream, followed by violently throwing the plate of food that had been placed in front of him. It was clear that he was in a state of immense distress and didn't want to be bothered by anyone.
After throwing the plate, my past self appeared to have realized that he acted impulsively and regretted it. Without saying a word, he slowly made his way back to the bed and sat down, bringing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them tightly.
"I can't move on, Mother. You don't understand," he said, his voice filled with despair. "I'm a failure, a disappointment, and nothing will ever change that."
His words were a clear indication that he had lost hope and had given up on everything, including himself.
"No, but..." my mother stammered, her cheeks damp with tears, "I can't just leave you like this. You're my son and I love you. I can't bear to see you like this. Please, Leon, just try to eat something. Anything. It's been days since you've eaten properly."
"I'll eat whenever I want to, Mother. You don't need to worry about me. Please, just leave me alone. I don't want you to see me like this," my past self said, his voice devoid of any emotion and filled with hopelessness.
He looked at his mother with tired eyes, wishing that she would understand and leave him to his misery. He didn't want anyone to see him like this. He felt like a failure, like he had let everyone down.
I recall vividly the emotions I experienced at that very moment. It was three days following my disownment. My drive and enthusiasm were completely drained, and the overwhelming feeling of being helpless was so intense that it prevented me from rising from my bed. It was almost as if there was a magnetic force within my chest that continuously drew me back into bed every time I attempted to stand up.
I also remember what was repeatedly playing in his mind, as if it were stuck on a loop.
'You don't have what it takes to inherit the house.'
The memory of those words lingered within me, like an incessant itch that I couldn't ignore. It was a constant reminder of my failure, of my inability to meet the expectations of my family. No matter how hard I tried, those words continued to haunt me, to weigh me down and make me feel like I wasn't good enough.
As my past self spoke those words, it seemed as though Mother had understood that there was no point in continuing to try and persuade him. It seemed that no matter what she said, he would just continue to reject her.
As Mother realized that her efforts to persuade my past self were futile, she bit her lips and closed her eyes. Then she muttered to herself, "Time will heal every wound..." before standing up and beginning to pick up the shattered plate and the food that had been thrown onto the floor.
After picking up the broken plate and the scattered food, Mother wiped the floor clean and left the room. I could hear her footsteps as she descended the stairs, and after a few moments, she returned with a new plate of food.
She walked slowly towards the bed, and I could see the sadness in her eyes as she looked at my past self. She hesitated for a moment before placing the plate of food on the bedside table.
"I'll put your food here. Be sure to eat, okay?" she said.
But my past self remained silent, staring blankly ahead as if she wasn't even there. Mother lingered for a moment longer before turning to leave the room once again, closing the door gently behind her.
As the door gradually closed, the light from the hallway slowly diminished, leaving my past self sitting in complete darkness. It felt as if the sun had vanished, and he was engulfed by an abyss of emptiness.
Suddenly, a male voice echoed from the other side of the door, and my assumption was that it was my father speaking.
"I think it would be best if we give him some space, Elisa. He's going through a tough time, and he needs some time to cope with everything," he said.
"You're right," my mother replied, her voice full of worry. "I just hope that he'll be okay soon."
Perhaps he wasn't aware of the other voice, or he was aware of it but chose to ignore it, but my past self simply stayed in bed, curled up in a fetal position. His vacant eyes seemed to simply hover in empty space.
As the footsteps of my parents faded away as they descended the stairs, I couldn't help but notice something my past self muttered. The statement he made sounded like a final verdict, a conclusion that suggested he had nothing more to live for. It was a statement that struck me deeply, making me realize the severity of his situation and the despair that he felt.
"I just want to die…" he mumbled to himself absently. The words were barely audible, but I was close enough to hear them clearly.
"Look how far you've fallen, Leon. You're worse off than I ever thought possible. I can't believe someone like you would even consider suicide. You think life is meaningless and disposable? That's just ridiculous." The girl beside me chuckled as if my past self's words were a joke.
I faced the mysterious black-haired girl and felt the frustration building up inside me. I demanded an explanation, "Are you the one who's showing me this?"
"That's right!"
Her response was affirmative, and she even showed me her white teeth.
Feeling annoyed and confused, I pressed her further, "Why are you showing me this?" I couldn't understand why I was being made to relive such painful memories.
The girl replied in a cute and playful tone, "Hmmmmmmmm? Making you aware of how miserable you are, I guess?" She even stuck her index finger to her cheek, but her attempt to be cute didn't help my growing frustration.
I felt a surge of anger at her words, but something in her expression made me pause. There was a glimmer of kindness behind her teasing, a hint of understanding that I couldn't ignore.
Who was she, and what was her connection to this dream? It was clear that she held some kind of power or authority over the dream, but what was her ultimate goal? Was she trying to help me, or was she simply toying with me for her own amusement?
I looked at her, searching for some sort of answer or explanation, but she simply smiled at me. "Let me ask you once more. Will you be able to deny reality when it's staring you in the face?" she asked the question once more, her tone still light and playful.