This is really the end; there's no more hope. I know now that this can never be undone. Have I become cynical? No, I've just learned how the world works. That's all...

Why do people hurt each other over pride caked in mud? How can they pay away their humanity for such trivial things? How dare they try to package those deaths as solemn and sublime sacrifices? I know everything; I've already figured it out. The fact that there is nowhere for these screams to reach.

In a way, I'm glad you're not here, so you don't have to hear these sophistries. They're completely self-serving! People act like you were a hero from the moment you were born. If those words make me angry, is that jealousy? I don't even know...

Why did we fight for things that don't even protect our happiness? What kind of lie made us believe we were participating in some great and sacred plan? To be honest, I didn't understand a single one of those missions. I just enjoyed being with you, and that was it.

While we bled for someone else's victory and traded our irreplaceable innocence for other disgusting things, their empty help—telling us to move forward with altruism and goodness—was never enough.

....Look, in the end, no one is sane.