My Guiding Ember: When The Last Story began

“Smile!” “Why are you making that face? Can't you smile?” “You’re so young, enjoy your life!” Smile... SMILE!... SMILE!!! Why do they always give me advice? Men want to show they're superior by giving me orders. Talking is easy; anyone can talk and say beautiful words. But no one truly knows how others feel; no one is an expert on others' emotions. So why do they give me advice? Do they think they know me? Do they have the illusion that they understand me? If they knew just a tiny bit of what I feel, they would shut up! Or maybe I'm just exaggerating my feelings. To others, it might seem normal, or my suffering might appear bearable. I hate it when they make my suffering look so easy. If only they knew—if they knew, would they keep telling me to smile? If they were in my shoes, could they keep their smiles? If only they could see what I see! Maybe I am cursed or something like that. What would you call someone who lives with devils? Literally! People aren't the devils this time; it’s those creatures clinging to them, breathing with them, as close as possible. How can someone keep their sanity with such a view? Why haven't I thought about suicide? I don't know. I've thought about it many times, but I still feel something. Even if I am exhausted, there's something inside me waiting for light, for hope, even if it seems absurd. Who would believe me? But maybe, just maybe, this small ember inside me isn't lying.