I couldn’t bring myself to speak to that girl.
But she was the only warmth I had found in this world I’d been searching for.
Even if I couldn’t feel that warmth because my body was made of junk.
I was born into this world to find her.
In this new world, I sacrificed my life and everything I was supposed to gain here.
That girl built my body out of junk.
I don’t know where she gathered it all from.
My memories were a jumbled mess.
The girl’s life was a lonely one.
There was no one else but her.
That was only natural.
Nothing is born here, and nothing dies.
That is the nature of this world.
His body was mine, too.
Is it enough for me to simply want it?
All you have to do is find the next thing that brings you joy or makes you happy, right?
Is there really only one thing that can make you happy or bring you joy?
That can’t be true, can it?