Once again, the bittersweet emotions of turmoil. Don’t know whether I should be happy or not. Half of me just wants to be happy. It is an accomplishment after all. Yet the other half is pissed. Fucking pissed.

I don’t know, should I be happy that our hard work paid off, or should I be upset at my own expense? Knowing that people who did not do the work got that same recognition? I have always been one that never really cared about myself: I was willing to do anything to make others suffer. Take the below as examples:

I was willing to cut myself, willing to hurt myself, to make other’s feel guilty. People have asked me why, and my answer was always the same: because physical wounds will heal. But the emotional pain that the others feel will be there far longer than my scars.

I was willing to overlook my own accomplishments, was willing to give up my own positives, to pull down others that don’t deserve it. Even if it showed the world that obviously we don’t work as a team, that there are some very large internal conflicts within ourselves, I was willing to do it. One of you have told me “yeah but that will not only sacrifice that one that you target, but all of us as well.” I’m sorry but I can’t help but feel that your statement is… in brutal English… covering your own ass.

I honestly don’t care about what happens to me: my physical body is only a pawn to my mind. I’m willing to sacrifice it to watch others’ pain.

Don’t look to me for help. If I never helped you, don’t ever expect me to start now.

You don’t wish to throw away a good friendship, fine. I’m not stopping you. You tell me you can find out what really happened, but so what if you do? So what if you can find out if the answer makes you feel better? Will just the satisfaction of the truth be enough? What if what you find out is really what we think? Then you have to live with that turmoil for your life. But nevermind, that’s your life.

Like I said, I’m never one to really care about what happens to me. Revenge has always been on my mind stronger than my physical well-being. I never cared about my body, I would have dearly let it starve, let it die, let it hurt for all I cared. The pain was always welcoming when it hurt inside. Because I knew that the pain on the outside, I could avoid, I could bear, but the emotional turmoil would be torture. And now all these makes me care even less.

I used to believe in karma, I used to believe in being the better person, because it would be thrown back to them ten-fold. But how does this justify anything? How, pray tell, can I believe this? How can I continue believing in karma. Yeah sure they’re suffering now, all those idiots. But I can’t see it. I can’t see them suffer. What’s the use in that?

Everything is starting to seem more bleak than ever, more and more so. Everything starts becoming faded, and slowly the line between right and wrong, just like the line in fantasy and reality, is starting to fade. It is starting to become a blend of nothing but levels. It’s like my past is finally starting to catch up to me. There is no good or evil, no black or white. Everything is simply just a different shade of grey.

I once told myself that there was no such thing as evil people in this world, that in their eyes, for a reason we knew not, they were the good guys, and the ones opposing them were the evil ones for stopping them. There was never a concept of good and evil: good was defined as something that was right-minded in the eyes of the society. My theory also meant that murderers were not evil.

Once again, just like the time before, the assassin had started her awakening process… her mind hatched an evil plan that she knew, if it worked, she was sacrificing everything she cared about. Then again, she had already sacrificed it once. What’s once more?

She now knew why assassins were always alone: not because they were evil, not because they were unfriendly. But simply because at one point in time, all assassins had to go through the ultimate test: sacrificing everything that meant something to them, for something else.

My sacrifice might not have seemed significant, everything for just one person. It sounds silly, it sounds childish. But to me, it means everything. Just for one sentence, one word, one consoling phrase would make me happy.

Sharpen the blades, hold your ground. Make no mistake. You only have one chance.

One chance: one day. 12 December. I’ll be waiting.

One chance. If you fail, you’re going down with them. Everything’s on the line. Failure is out of the question.

I used to think that I had to censor myself in order to blog, but the time has come and gone: the time where I used to care. Hiryuu-kun once told me: “let people say what they want to: let them think what they want to. I don’t have to answer to anyone but myself.” Although the conversation that we had meant nothing in ANYWAY similar to this situation (sure in hell the conversation was in NO WAY along this topic… hahaha), that one sentence remained in my mind. That’s the only sentence that means anything to me now.

And that’s why I can stop caring. Because as long as I can live with it, as long as either the assassin or the girl can live with it, I have given myself an answer.

Answer for today? Fuck it.