This chair feels somewhat comfortable… I mean, I feel as though I’m sitting in a confessional. But what exactly am I confessing? I don’t really know.

Right now, here, I can be myself. Sometimes, I am me — the version of myself that only I know. And sometimes, I am also me — the one many people know. The difference lies in the aura… My aura changes between this version of me speaking now and that other me, who somehow feels more comforting to me.

But I do like to be a little naive… playful, even. Still, often, my face is overtaken by nothingness. I often appear frozen and emotionless, even though I laugh and talk a lot. But those who observe closely will notice… I am not really the one who’s talking — I’m just an image crafted to please the crowd.

I guess you could say I’m socially skilled… skilled at creating an ideal picture that fits everyone. But sadly, it doesn’t fit me. And I certainly don’t want it to fit the person I’ll love. I want to be me with him… that woman who smiles softly, tilts her head gently from time to time while sipping tea. I want to speak tenderly, to stare quietly at him while he talks, without interrupting — just watching his face and little movements. I want to smile whenever I feel like smiling, to express my anger if I’m angry, and to leave quietly if I feel I don’t belong.

But… I killed that self long ago. Or maybe… I buried her alive. And from time to time, I can still hear her struggling to breathe, trapped in the place where I buried her.

Sometimes, I think I’m my own curse. Because I don’t even know how to smile naturally anymore. I’m like a hollow shell that chatters meaninglessly… like a cow chewing, making noise for no reason at all.

The pull that draws me toward my cursed self — or perhaps it’s more accurate to say, this strange attraction between me and curses — terrifies me. Yes… it’s frightening. Imagine for a moment that I simply wanted to push away that part of me I’ve always seen as a burden, that weak thing inside me. And what was my reward for that? Oops… you’ve lost your smile forever.

What is this? I only wanted to be strong, without burdens. Why did I have to lose my smile in the process?
Maybe… because I never understood that every person, by nature, has a weaker version of themselves. It’s not a burden — it’s simply a part of them. A part they should never abandon.

It’s a bit like giving up on your humanity just because a dog bit your cat. Would you run around chasing the dog to bite it back? Or lock it away? Or even go as far as to kill it — just to soothe that storm inside you, just to avenge your cat? As ridiculous and irrational as that sounds, some people would actually do it. And that… that perfectly describes my situation.

If the dog bites your cat, you’re supposed to care for your cat, protect her, and keep her safe from the dog if you truly love her. Or, if you realize you cannot protect her, then maybe… maybe you should let someone else do it. Maybe even let the cat go, for her own safety. But to abandon the cat lying there, wounded… and instead chase after the dog? That’s strange. That’s messed up.

So what did I do?
I was just a cat… who scratched herself. And instead of crying out and licking the wound, I tore off one of my own limbs.
Sometimes I stare at that severed limb… and sometimes at my claws.
Was I supposed to just trim my claws… instead of cutting off the whole paw?

The chair is indeed beautiful…
I wonder — will I sit here forever?
Or should I lie down once more, gazing into the horizon, searching for a moon to light up my darkness?