Distorted Agape

By Koyama Hidekazu

Distorted Agape short story 1

Distorted Agape short story 1

The Story of a Certain Someone from Somewhere

In commemoration of today’s date (or yesterday, since that was when I planned to upload it), I translated one of the short stories written by Koyama Hidekazu (aka Vocaloid producer, Nanou), which were compiled in the “Distorted Agape” booklet that came with the Lyu:Lyu’s first live concert DVD.

Warnings for suicide mention and themes of depression.



Thursday, August 15th, 2013

3:23AM

It’s been exactly two weeks since I’ve started writing this diary.

Today is the promised day.

It’s not as if I made a promise with anyone on this day, it’s just something that I decided on my own, but I want to believe that promises are something that are always made to be kept. They aren’t ever made to be broken, no matter what. The same applies whether it’s a promise for another person, or a promise for yourself. If they weren’t something to be kept in the first place, wouldn’t you feel bad for all those heartfelt promises that are being made somewhere one after another, even right at this very moment? I’ve always liked the word “promise” and found it to be a very nice word, but I wonder how many people out there truly keep, and fulfill their promises?

Anyway, since I’ve never had anyone who I could really call a friend, even up until the very end, there probably won’t be anyone that will ever read this diary (although, thinking of it that way, it does put me a bit more at ease), but I’d like to write my final entry.

Today, I plan on dying.

Speaking of which (even I don’t really know who I’m making these excuses for), today marks two weeks since I started this diary, and it also happens to be the day I came into this world. Saying that I’m leaving this world on the same day that I came into it has a nice ring to it, and it also feels like the perfect timing to end things, which I why I decided on today.

Furthermore, and this is merely a coincidence, when Japan was at war a long time ago, they stopped fighting on this exact same day. That’s what my parents told me when I was young (at the time, I still didn’t know anything about the war, and was simply proud to be born on the same day as an important event in Japan). The day I was born is the day the battle ended. And today is also the day that my life, which has sort of been like a battle in a way, will end. When I thought of it that way, I came to realize more and more how fitting it was to make it today.

A child that was born on the day the war ended. Hearing this might make you think of them as a messenger of peace, but most regrettably, those words have never suited me. I’ve always been nothing more than a puny human, doing all I could to cling desperately to the place I had been allowed to stay, as if my very life depended on it; I had my plate full just trying to protect my own territory.

Not once has my smile ever been used for the sake of world peace. It’s only been used to protect myself, and as I kept on plastering this smile on my face, I’ve found that at last, I’m no longer unable to take it off.

Whenever people hear me talk about this, they’ll usually tell me things like, “You’re too self-conscious,” or “You’re just not putting in enough effort,” or “You should try harder,” and since I’ve also grown tired of talking about it, it’s been a while since I last brought it up.

On the topic of diaries, I’ve never kept one before, other than when I was forced to as a child, but when you have only two weeks left to live, you suddenly feel compelled to do things you wouldn’t consider doing before. I almost wish that I had started keeping one earlier. I’ve remembered a lot of things during these past two weeks, like what I can recall from my childhood, the times I still went to school, and what happened afterwards.

Humans are far more forgetful creatures than people would think themselves to be. People never seem to quite remember, at least not until they die, or some kind of danger that would threaten death occurs, how valuable it is to simply be able to breathe, and to have neither too little or too much food and shelter.

If all lives are equal in value, regardless of whether you’re a saint or a sinner, perhaps that’s what makes me want to convince myself that even this useless life of mine was also something valuable. Maybe that’s why I decided to do something so out of character. It was written in some book somewhere that all people are born with the burden of sin, and so I’ve lived my entire life asking myself, over and over again, whether I was born into this world solely to atone for that sin from the very beginning, or whether my life itself was some form of punishment. Although, it isn’t as if anyone has ever asked me about these things.

Ahh, but at the very least, I just wanted someone to listen to my songs more.

Since no one is going to read this diary anyway, I’ll come out and say it all.

Singing is the one thing that I’ve always liked, even up until the very end. Even after all my hatred towards myself, other people, and the rest of the world, even when it felt like my head and stomach had become inflamed, singing was the only thing that I could never come to hate. My hatred, melancholy, and despair would swallow up everything in their path if I let them, but my songs were the only thing that they couldn’t violate. I protected my songs up until the very end. That is the one thing I have to be proud about.

Come to think of it, I think I’ve always liked singing, ever since I was a child, from as far back as I can remember. As for the reason why, I really don’t know, no matter how much I think about it. The only thing I know is that I’ve liked singing since the day I was born.

Can you imagine the happiness I felt the very first time I was praised, and told that I was “good”?

It made me think, for the first time in my life, that it was alright for me to exist.

It made me think that this was the one place where I belonged.

Perhaps I was cursed by this thing called song, ever since that day.

I’m sure that you just didn’t know. I’m sure that you’ll say, “I didn’t mean it like that.” That’s how it always is with you. You never take responsibility for your words. You know that the words you say have no importance to the world, and knowing this, you mercilessly judge everything that displeases you. Like drip being pumped through your body by tubes, or simply watching as products are carried along by on a conveyor belt, all you do is criticize the things that you are given, spew complaints, and pass your judgement on one thing after another. And when you’re confronted about it in depth, you suddenly pretend that you’re an ordinary person, saying that you’re not responsible for it, repeating over and over to not make you take responsibility.

I’m sure that you’ll never realize, not even if it takes you your whole life, that that one sentence hurt me enough to vomit blood.

This is pointless, so let’s stop now.

I know that this probably won’t reach anyone, but in the end, there’s just something that I feel like I have to tell someone.

There is not one human being who is born into this world for the purpose of being hated.

Everyone deserves to be blessed.

No one should live their life being hated, envied, or scorned, or wear a fake smile on their face in a sea of doubt, or face every day with an underlying fear of losing their place to belong.

Heaven must exist somewhere. And Hell must exist somewhere, as well. However, neither of those are here. And not one of us knows what happens when you go there.

Next to you right now is someone that’s alive, just as you are. Maybe that person is someone cheerful, or maybe they’re a bit gloomy. Maybe they’re loud, or maybe they’re quiet. Maybe it’s someone tall, or someone short. Maybe it’s a man, or maybe a woman. Either way, if you find the world to be bright and wonderful place, please, share that with everyone around you.

I want to thank you so much.

And, I also want to say that I’m so sorry.

I don’t want to die yet.

But, I want to believe that promises are something that are always made to be kept.

They aren’t ever made to be broken. No matter what.

I’ve always been one to break promises, but for the first and last time, I want to keep my promise.

But even so….

I’m afraid I’ll have to break another promise.