Everything is fuzzy. I would imagine this is what it’s like to be nearsighted.

New-borns aren’t known for their excellent vision, so I hope that this is something I’ll outgrow.

That man who was in here not too long ago was presumably my father.

He seemed surprisingly calm, but when he looked at me he tasted resentful.

Dunno how that works.

It’s pretty boring being a baby, honestly.

Not needing to do anything seems nice, but this is not being able to do anything.

Just completely helpless and vulnerable.

It reminds me too much of my last life to be comfortable with.

The thing bothering me the most is how… heavy the air feels.

I know that as a baby my muscles are extremely feeble, but something tells me there’s more to it.

There’s a constant pressure being forced upon me, although it’s very weak.

Huh, interesting. The pressure is actually making its way into my body, specifically the heart.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

Once it breached the skin barrier, I noticed how delicious the pressure is.

It’s like my body was made to consume, I muse as the pressure is now instead being sucked into my body.

Just as the pressure gets too much and my vision slowly turns to black, I can barely make out a blurry figure entering the room.

Feeding time again.

I’m pretty sure it’s goat’s milk like I had that one time at a friend’s aunt’s farm.

Back when I had friends.

Wonder how they’re doing?

Probably happily married with 2.5 kids, having completely forgotten about me.

Anyway, my older brother visited me.

He’s about five, I would say?

Seems like a cute kid, as far as my blurry vision would let me see.

He towered over me, his blondish hair and piercing blue eyes just like Father’s.

Unlike his father, his eyes had actual emotions behind them, a deeper hatred than I would think possible for one so young.

But then again, I never interacted much with children, other than the bratty ones that customers were fine with letting loose in the store.

Speaking of brats, apparently this one is too, because he just hit me!

It really hurts, too.

I like to think that it hurts a lot because I’m just a baby.

I got back at him by screaming as loud as I could right in his general direction.

I kept at it until the maid in charge of me ran in and ushered the brat out of the room.

After the pest was removed, I was left to my own devices again.

Kinda neglectful, to be honest.

Helpful for me, though.

I can keep absorbing the pressure more since I’m alone.

Something tells me I shouldn’t do this in front of anyone.

They don’t deserve to know.

The maid will occasionally talk to herself, but I can’t tell what she’s saying.

I probably won’t learn the language anytime soon either, based on how well I did in my highschool Spanish.