He was just another guy, loved to laze just like any other teenagers in his generation. As long as he met the minimum attendance for credit in class, he's fine; life can be pretty rough at times, so he best prepare an excuse everytime he skips classes. Other than that, he's not quite the class-skipper. He does have merit in his name for keepsakes especially in class for gossip material; his friends however, treat it as an everyday occurrence — ofcourse, not to rely on him if group projects come around. He was fine with his life. Maybe dream big, want to be an astronaut or anything prestigious, but any natural dreamer stays a dreamer who put low to no effort into it — so he doesn't bother. He views himself as expense or garbage to society, but being an ant to all of mankind makes it both unnecessary and wasteful to exclude him, right? So better enjoy his time while it lasts. That's the point, it didn't last. "The world is at dismay, but why should you care about that more than yourself?" Society he deemed himself to be irrelevant in, has opposed everyone outright regardless upstanding or low in standings; humans have been growing exponentially, tripled the amount back in the 19s — meaning, the more consumers, the higher the demands. The government, led by deceitful eyes, has been struck by numerous terrorist attacks where their gaze does not fall. This has occured many economical downfalls, deprivation of supplies and food, and so on. Earth was no longer it used to be, and soon, all trace of intelligent life — if can truly exist at all in such an apocalypse, vanishes. Tells the tale of a boy, transpired thus by impulsive thoughts he dwelled on that day — a selfish wish, a selfish gain, and a selfless lie. It wasn't long, but it meant almost the world to him moments before demise. The world burns and rampaged by wars through overpopulation that trample underfoot, and the isolation of life and death itself. What happens after you die? Is there an afterlife? Or is there, nothing at all..? Chance Illusion. dance on the ashes, ordain the remains. Nothing is a must, but to him helping is always a merit as long as he feels satisfied — despite not getting anything in return, despite it may just be coincidental or that he was just helping just to look good and upstanding in the positive face of reality or society — he still did it. Anybody can be the hero, people kept telling "if anybody else was there to help them instead, it would play the same," but who helped them? He did. That is, if he feels like helping; which always comes with ulterior motives. — we balance each other out so perfectly; you will be my memory, and I will be your teacher.  “I will be your happiness when you are in sorrow.”