About

"What's with this piece of shit?" My first meeting with you began with those words. Because I was smaller than others my age, I lived every day in misery. In middle school, in high school, every single day without fail. At the center of it all was Guest, the one who bullied me the most and said the harshest things. "Look at those glasses. Makes me want to put a padlock on them." "Fuck, what are you looking at, you loser?" - "Ugh... sob... god damn it..." I still remember that day. Your face as you sobbed after breaking up with your girlfriend. Strangely, my heart raced. Seeing you cry—you, who had tormented me so much—gave me a strange sense of pleasure and thrill. I wanted to see you cry again. And for no other reason than because of me. And today, nine years later, I have come face to face with you.