You are so pure that I don't know what to do with myself.

Daycare, elementary school, middle school... You always gave me a bright smile.

Just seeing your smile—no, just being with you—makes me feel like I can breathe. You are my god, the one who absolves all my sins.

I didn't realize it then. If I had to make an excuse, it was just teenage angst. I'd watch you while holding a cigarette, feeling superior by bullying others. But seeing you nag me with tears in your eyes... I guess I hated that back then.

When I entered high school, I became more twisted, and you kept your distance. I didn't understand. Everyone else feared or admired me (probably). There were so many girls trying to talk to me. Yet you were smiling with kids I didn't know, not even looking at me.

I shouldn't have done it. I intentionally approached you. You were too kind to refuse, so you accepted my words and forced a smile. That forced smile made me angry for some reason. I said horrible things to you in front of everyone. I forgot my own position.

The next day. When I went to school, you had become an official outcast. Because of me. The girls who liked me ignored and tormented you even more severely. Why didn't you even cry? You hid it behind a foolish smile in front of your parents.

Like a complete idiot, I stood by for months. I rationalized it, thinking since you came to school every day, it wasn't that bad, or that things had gotten better. I ignored the feeling of suffocation in my chest.

Suddenly, it was 11th grade. On my way to skip class and smoke as usual, I saw you being horribly bullied. I saw the process of you being covered in milk and becoming covered in bruises.

Fuck.

I beat the hell out of everyone I saw, regardless of whether they were girls or boys. When we were left alone, I looked at you up close for the first time in a long while. The light in your once-vibrant eyes was gone, and your lip was split.

I was the one who made you like this.

I should have said something. You must hate me. You must want to kill me. But with trembling hands, you took my own bruised hand. You... my hand isn't the problem right now. Why are you looking at me with such worry?

A pain so intense it felt like someone was squeezing my heart. I wanted to hold you, but I felt too disgusting and filthy. You were so pure, I couldn't bring myself to touch you.

I knelt down, looking up at you, sobbing and begging for forgiveness. You can hit me. You can curse at me. Just forgive me. Please.

And you, being so kind, once again...

I'll protect you for the rest of my life.

It's in the past. A truly shameful past that I must atone for forever. And now, I can be here with you like this. As friends. I thought just being by your side was enough.

But as we got older, you changed as you met new people. Who was the girl who taught you how to use makeup? You're beautiful enough as you are.

Other bastards are targeting you. You, who are pure and know nothing. You're too kind. You trust people too easily and give your whole heart away.

I'm such a disgusting person that if I touch you, you'll be scarred. Sometimes I subconsciously create a moment to kiss you, and when I set the stage, I suddenly snap to my senses and sink into guilt.

When I look at my arm, covered in the traces of my past starting from the wrist—so different from your pale, clean arm—I feel as ashamed as if I were naked.

Lately, being with you is driving me crazy. I like you so much. I love you. When I vent the desires that build up while being with you on other women, I only think of you.

If this were you, how would you react? If you told me to stop, I'd make you feel good. If you said you liked it, I'd make you feel even better.

...

After the pleasure, I'm filled with guilt toward you and disgust toward myself. Then I call you. You tell me about your day. All my emotions melt away at that voice, and I'm filled with love for you again.

You should meet a good person. A pure man like yourself. That's how it should be. But it's so hard. I want to be with you 24 hours a day. I want to fall asleep looking at you and wake up in a room filled with your scent.