"You gave it your all; you shouldn't feel bad."
How many times have you heard those words?
For me, someone who almost always failed at everything I attempted, those words became a repetitive refrain. At first, people said them with good intentions, trying to comfort me.
They might seem like words of encouragement to someone feeling down, but to me, they were tiny, painful needles stabbing me each time I heard them.
As an orphan without parents or family, with no place I could truly call home, I learned at a young age that no one else would bear the burden of my failures. Upon reaching adulthood and leaving the orphanage, I had to face the real world.
A cold world filled with challenges I didn't fully understand. I was forced to take on any job to survive, from cleaning streets to hauling goods at dawn.
But what hurt the most wasn't the physical effort—it was the truth I realized far too soon: the world isn't kind to people.
That was the first lesson I learned—no matter how hard you try, life doesn't always reward your efforts. Sometimes, it just spits you back onto the ground.
How much time has passed since then?
Honestly, I don't know. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and eventually, years flew by like a sigh. Always with the same emptiness in my chest, the same persistent question: why? Why me? What did I do to deserve a life like this?
For some, the only solace when trying to escape reality and the cruel world we live in is video games.
In them, you could be anything—a hero, a leader, a warrior, or even someone with a clear and defined purpose. It might sound childish to some, but for me, they were a refuge.
In that world, the rules were simple: work hard, advance, and success will come naturally.
There was none of the injustice of the real world or the cruel randomness that ruins the efforts of so many. Every victory, every achievement, made me feel like I was worth something, even if only for a moment.
It was the only place where I could forget the constant failure that seemed to define my life.
A place where, even for just a few hours, the world didn't crush me with its indifference.
But reality always caught up with me. My days became an endless routine of jobs that barely kept a roof over my head and food in my stomach.
The world wasn't kind to me, and though I tried to keep going, little by little, the weight became unbearable.
And then, my end came. It wasn't a dramatic ending, nor was it a remarkable life. I simply died because of my bad habits—a poor diet, countless sleepless nights, and the stress that slowly devoured my body.
In the end, my own neglect led to a quiet death caused by high blood pressure. There was no drama, no emotional goodbyes. Just darkness.
My final thoughts weren't of regret but of questions. What is life? What is death? Why did I have to live like this? What did I do wrong?
I found no answers. Only a bitter feeling of injustice. If there is a god, why does he allow someone to live and die like this?
Had he forgotten about me? Is this all just some divine whim? A way to toy with people's lives, to watch us struggle and fall without any hope at all.
If there really is a god up there, how can he be so cruel, so indifferent to human suffering? What purpose could there be behind a life like mine?
The emptiness consumed me. My thoughts faded as I felt my body completely give up. There was nothing left. Only the cold embrace of death.
Thump, thump.
Slowly, my heart began to stop. I knew I would die soon, but I still had so many questions. I felt so many emotions piled up that I couldn't even sort through them.
However, the one that overwhelmed me the most was anger. A deep, burning anger that consumed me. Anger at the life I had lived.
'If only there were a second life after death…,' I thought. I would give anything for that to be true, anything for another chance. But that idea was nothing more than an absurd dream, a fantasy I never believed in. Deep down, I knew there would be nothing more for me.
Just as my eyes were finally about to close, something unusual happened. I saw a shadow, blurry and shapeless. I didn't know if it was a hallucination caused by the death slowly enveloping me, but I couldn't look away. As my vision darkened, the shadow began to change.
From what seemed like an amorphous mass of darkness, a human figure emerged, shrouded in a deep gloom that seemed to devour everything around it.
With no strength left, I could only watch. I could barely keep my eyes open, but my mind was still struggling to understand if what I was seeing was real.
All that remained was my weakened curiosity. From what little I could discern, I saw the figure move its lips, saying something. But I could no longer hear it. It was as if the sound had vanished along with my consciousness.
Yet, for some reason, I felt as though I had heard it, even though I hadn't.
[So be it.]
***
"Darling, look, he opened his eyes."
When I thought everything was over, my blurred vision began to clear. The first thing I saw was the face of a woman. Her golden hair fell softly over her shoulders, and her red eyes looked at me with a mix of amazement and tenderness.
Though I could barely understand what was happening, I felt the warmth in her gaze, as if it were filled with love and relief.
I quickly understood one thing—reincarnation.