I knew that my decision to kill her was the right one. She made me aware of this all the time. You see, I might have changed my mind. I probably would have, I would have given her mercy. I’m no killer, really I’m not. Clarissa, though? She’s a killer through and through.

My life continued on in this manner. At the office, riding the bus, reading the newspaper. My life on the outside still looked calm and collected and boring. But inside? Inside of my head was a whole different story. It was madness and mayhem. It was power and poetry. It was constant action. My mind was turning my humdrum life into a nonstop twenty four hour adventure, with myself as the central character, the antihero, the protagonist.

I am writing this note solely out of respect for my mother, and also out of spite for my wife. My wife, that miserable wretched bitch, she’s the real reason I’m doing this. Why I did any of this. It’s her fault that we’re both dead.

The next day flew by in a blur. All of us around the base were quiet. Real quiet. Yet I knew, on the inside, for all of us, we still heard the screaming. The shooting. The wet sounds of blood spilling from innocent bodies. There was red on our minds and behind our shut eyes.

I think that by this point, I’m the only person left on this earth. Well, the only normal person, that is.

If you’re reading this, I am already dead. 

Komorebi is a Japanese word, which describes the light filtered through forest trees. In this series, you will meet a long line of people who, for one reason or another, are unable to see the light through the trees. They are all lost, depleted, at the ends of their proverbial rope. In summation, they are all preparing to end their own lives. What are their reasons? And are they justified? Find out here, in Explanation for the Concerned.