Thank You For Being Trash

This was a memoir about a woman. A story about a woman who ventured down a dark, bad path and went inside a book where she knew the end.

‘Arne. I want to ask you. Who did you love, not me? When will you love me?'

Her sincerity which no one knew, was also the answer to his question.

Her abyss.

* * *

The woman did not know how to feel. She did not know the feelings of love, friendship, happiness, gratitude, and such positivity. She had never been loved. She had never been warmed up, so she did not know.

She only has nasty and wild feelings. She knew only negative emotions such as violence, anger, hatred, obsession, lack, and loneliness.

At first, when she was young, she was hungry for a sliver of warmth. Because chasing love was something instinctive, she was thirsty for affection, longed for warmth, and wept for not having them. As she grew older, she slowly killed her heart.

The expectation of the unattainable would someday come true ate away at her body.

She dried up.

The depression of not being fulfilled, the pain of not being loved, and the hatred of those who didn’t love her. She was overcome with those feelings. It was painful, and she regretted being born and regretted why she was alive.

At the same time, she felt sad.

She wanted to live. The world was shining when she could only see light sparkles, but why didn't she belong? Why was she in hell? Why should she give up on life because of this? She just gave up on being loved because it was unfair.

At the same time, some defense mechanism was created.

She didn’t want to be hurt anymore, so she blocked the gloomy and muddy emotions first.

She tried not to think, sending all the lingering emotions to the abyss. That kind of defense mechanism because she didn't want to give up on life just because she was consumed by depression. That was what happened.

Such unconsciousness isolated her.

Before meeting anyone, she was afraid of parting, so she didn't even think about meeting in the first place.

The intense memory of that day, when she felt unloved made her never want to experience it again. If she touched the warm feelings and experienced being loved, she couldn't think of the end of it. It would be more painful when it ends afterward.

Meeting entails parting… then, what she had after parting was death.

It was the beginning of the end that she could see, and it was right not to start it. Also, if she repeatedly met and parted, she would find out that there was another meeting after the parting.

She didn't have the confidence to endure a parting once.

She didn't have the confidence to endure one failure.

It was her obsession with life that made her live even in such a harsh life. She didn't want to die living like this. Because she was thirsty for emotions, she thought the world looked bright and shiny.

The world was ugly, and it was no different from her dried-up emotions. When she was young, she leaned on the warmth of the sunlight through the window and was comforted by the glint of the moonlight. She grew up like that.

What kind of love, what kind of warmth… she didn’t experience those things, and she didn’t even try to experience them.

It was such a life.

There were also those who whispered their love to her. But they were all ignored.

“I love you.”

“I will only look at you for the rest of my life. I promise to love only you for the rest of my life.”

The woman knew in secret. Even after confessing those feelings in detail like that, it would quickly cool off. So did the people who confessed to her. So did her parents.

The rest wasn't even worth listening to.

The only positive, close emotion she felt was pleasure. Even that was quickly volatilized, so she chose not to enjoy it. What had always settled in one corner of her heart was the terrible melancholy, loneliness, and pain.

That was all.

Then, in her pushed-out reality, she realized that the world did not shine and the futility of living so far obsessed with insignificant things.

She wanted to let go of her life.

What she found out at that time was the body temperature she encountered, so she chose to live. She barely held on to life. If she died, she wouldn’t feel the body temperature, heat, or pleasure.

As she got used to it, it was more stimulating and she needed it more, so she claimed to be an M. It was common to have sexual partners. But for an M, who enjoyed sadistic s*x, it was relatively uncommon. She wanted to be a little more special in that fleeting moment. She wanted to be an opponent of longing for someone.

Even so, she didn't want to give her affection, so she didn't maintain a deep relationship. She changed partners quickly.

Passing, brief pleasure and hot body temperature, she loved them… that was what made her live. If she didn’t have that, she’d let go of life if she experienced failure. She was wary of love, warmth, and happiness.

Emotions with a clear source were better than emotions whose origins were not accurate to whatever it was attributed to. For example, rather than ‘happiness’ that she did not know exactly what it was caused by, ‘jealousy’ that envied others and brought them down and wanted to be better than them was better.

Rather than love that ‘excited’ someone, a sexual desire to ‘quench the desire’ was better.

Maybe that was why those things came together, and she entered the novel where only despair, tragedy, and pleasure were foreseen.

It was because there was no uncertain love in it.

* * *

For the first time, she felt unfamiliar with the changed environment.

With a face that was not her own and a height shorter than hers, even the perspective was unfamiliar at first. She kept falling and bumping over and over again. She has no difficulty in understanding, but an unfamiliar accent and unfamiliar knowledge and food that tastes so different.

Every time that happened, she couldn't get rid of the thought of being a stranger.

She felt so lonely. She wanted to feel a sense of belonging, but she couldn't. Deepening these thoughts, she knew that it would continue to be painful, so she hid it in her unconscious mind.

She tried not to think.

Turning away, she locked herself in the depths and didn’t take it out.

When those things piled up to the point where she couldn't ignore them anymore, her unconscious used ‘Rewan.' She tried to hold herself here with a bond attached to him. She tried to put her mind on. She had managed to keep her spirit from wanting to disappear, wanting to die in fear.

“Would you like… to eat together?”

Because she didn’t know how to speak. Because she didn’t know how to make a relationship…

She just spat out anything.

However, the response was better than expected.

A meeting in the middle of the day… meeting was not that difficult. Relationships weren’t that hard. The woman knew it then for the first time. She erased this, too, because it was not that important in her life right now.

Rather, it was the realization that drove her to death.

The bustling life that she was not used to. Those unfamiliar cultures that were like strangers also melted into her life. Now she could deal with it. Now, she remembered Rewan’s death as the ruin of her country.

It was a thought she hadn't made to hold on to her life. She was worried about the future.

A life without Rewan.

Life in the empire.

It wasn’t that… she didn't think of trying to change her destiny. What if she tried to stop the country from ruin, but she couldn’t stop it? What about then?

The warmth was something she had never felt warm enough. It was just that she didn't feel any fear or anything because she was indifferent.

Distorted memories of that time.

Nothing happened. They are all flat characters. They are worthless people in her life. They are all characters in a novel. She couldn't help but think so… it was just nothing.

Nothing…

As expected, these were nothing to her.

So, without hesitation, she acted even more.

That was how the country was ruined. Originally, she thought of leaving Rewan behind. It was fate, she watched the country fall, but what if Rewan lived? What if he lived? Then, it was not all fate… he needed to die.

He must die for her.

She made his death.

At the same time, she felt guilty. She felt ‘pity’ for Rewan’s life being used by her. Taking advantage of his life.

Even with her memories in the kingdom constantly haunting her in the empire. They were nothing, and this was fate. She rationalized herself, pretending that the collapse of the country was no big deal. So did Lewan's death as well.

His death was nothing to her.

‘Anyway, the country is ruined. Lewan's death was also an irreversible fate. This place is inside a book with a fixed ending.'

When she got shaken, she repeated it once more.

Only pleasure, only pleasure… the soggy and dirty, only that certain feeling was her whole life.

She was shaken constantly.

Meeting was not that difficult. She also liked the sweetness and kindness. It wasn't that they parted unconditionally, but she made the country’s ruin. It was a relationship she had let go of.

Her past life? Her past life when she made a wall in advance and didn't try to accept anything? When the emotions she had left behind raised their heads above the abyss, she was busy looking elsewhere for the reason why she was shaking.

At first, those feelings were wrapped up as guilt for Arne.

Even so, the shaking, she added that she felt love for Rewan. She hid her other heart like that. She didn't think of it.

She mistakenly thought that she loved Rewan, and she thought that she felt guilty towards others. She was afraid she'd regret the life she lived if the emotions kept constantly coming up. She deliberately changed her mind.

‘S*x.’

‘Pleasure.’

Things like that.

So that she wouldn’t recall the past days when she hit a wall in her head, she locked it up and hid it. However, she thought that the things that came up were shaken by other things. She struggled. Would she regret her past life?

Regretting the life of keeping her distance from others.

Regretting the life of not even trying anything.

Regretting her frightened past.

So, that was why she might choose death.

She was afraid that she would resent herself for jumping into ruin. Ironically, it was her obsession with life that allowed her to live a life that was not even afraid of death. Although she was not afraid of death, she did not want to die.

How inconsistent was that?

All those anxiety, regrets, and those feelings were forcibly wrapped up. Everyone came to know love and felt warmth, so she pretended to be that way.

It ate her mind.

Yes, all of this originated from the ‘warmth’ and ‘love’ that she was so wary of.

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