“This is the way the world ends

Not with a bang, but a whimper.”

― T.S. Eliot

It was official, my world was over.

I had well and truly messed up.

Never in my life had I felt so sad. Yes I had cried before, and I had run into failure before, but this time was different. This sadness I was feeling could not compare to that of the past, even if I stacked them all of them up and dumped them onto me. This wasn't a thin sheet of satin that was depressing my emotions, it was a blanket that was doing it. A thick padded blanket. The kind you would choose, that I would choose to hide under to just get away from all my problems. To just forget about them. I had done this before, in fact it was only 3 weeks ago that I chose this exact route to deal with this whole isekai problem, forget it all.

Then why is it so hard now?

As I wallowed in this sorrow, I could feel the events that transpired ever since that fateful event slowly started to flood back into my mind.

The first part was honesty just a fog. As far as I could recall, It was just crying after crying, after crying,after crying. Somewhere in the midst of this all, I remember wiping away my tears away to see the first light of dawn slowly creeping it's way from beyond the horizon. It was then when my instincts finally kicked in and forced my body to stand back up and walk itself or more accurately, stumble my sodden body back to the hospital. My legs quivering at every step I took, barely able to support a soul so drunk with grief. All the while, I could feel my tears continue to stream down my cheek, leaving behind a thin trial of tear.

Miraculously, despite all this, I somehow managed to find my way back to the hospital. On seeing the wide bronze doors of the hospital, I without thinking, bumbled my way through stopping just shy of the counter . With my hair in a mess and my night ware all crumpled up, I was surprised the lone counter lady didn't kick me out the moment she saw me. She, kind-hearted that she was, instead gently turned my head over to take a closer look before her eyes widened to marbles upon realizing who I was. Next thing I knew, I heard her hurriedly shout for the other nurses to help me back to my room before personally coming over to console me afterwards. She was nice, I won't deny, but she could do little to ease the grief that was inside me.

Next came my parents. They came first thing in the morning . My mother stormed straight into my room dressed only in a simple petticoat covered by a large coat, the owner of it probably being my father. This was confirmed when my coatless father dashed in closely behind her. I remember the whole process of checking me out being quite swift, actually. One short courteous exchange with the doctor later and we were back to our car.

The car ride on the other hand was anything but swift. I remember the long ride back being awkward yet somehow comforting at the same time. My dad, being the caring man he was, had already placed his hands on my shoulder even before the door closed and snuggled me tight the whole way back. It was comforting I cannot deny and though I didn't share much, the care that was so unquestionably laden on me was enough to make be just that tiny bit better. My mom, being the one behind the wheel, didn't as actively have a hand in my consoling, but the respectful silence she gave was more than enough for me. She too was a young girl before, and she probably knew that giving her daughter some space was better than trying to butt into this father-daughter moment. This too I thanked her, though more spiritually than verbally.

Eventually, after the long ride, we reached our house. Timidly, I disembarked from the vehicle. My body being still frail from all the crying was unable to handle even my own weight and I found myself tripping over the edge of the car. Thankfully my father reacted in the nick of time and pulled me back before my face hit the floor. My mom, seeing me my vulnerability, quickly covered me with her coat and ushered me inside. Somewhere deep down, I knew why. Us as Hermmenschen were the role models to the rest. We could never show weakness, even at our lowest.

Sometimes, though, I wished we could.

This thought brushed away, however, the flurry of actions that followed. My mom had seen that the servants had noticed our presence and quickly signalled to my father to stall them before personally rushing me back up to my room. The official story, from what I heard, was that I was suffering from the side effects of the Rad-X medicine and would require some rest. That a doctor would be called over only if my conditions started to worsen. And to his credit he was right, I did need a doctor, just not this kind.

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My mother somehow sensing this need, didn't leave right away after laying me on my bed. Instead, she sat next to me and rather stiffly grabbed my limp hand before turning to give me a warm smile. Or at least that what I think she was trying to get at. My mother's face never really was suited for such a smile. But that tiny almost invisible twitch that lay at the edge of her smile, made me aware that she was trying and for that I appreciated.

I however, never got the chance to reciprocate this affection for I was too shattered to say anything meaningful. My mom stayed on a little while longer before she too left, giving me one final kiss of goodbye before stepping out of the door and leaving me in quiet solitude.

And so I lay there. Day after day night after night, spending most of my time in contemplation and isolation. The only disruption to this routine being polite knocks 3 times a day informing me of the arrival of my meal. However, no matter how absolutely mouthwatering the food smelt, I continued to ignore it. I had no appetite and plus It was only fair I did. A most fitting punishment for the discourtesy of she.

This cycle of active ignorance continued for about 3 days until I could no longer ignore the growling in my stomach. Realising that I would probably starve to death if I didn't eat, I knew it was time for me to finally get some food into my system. But I wasn't gonna go down that easy. If I were to exit this room, there would be no turning back. I would have to go out to face whatever that lay ahead of me. So holding my stomach hostage, I sat down crossed legged like the monks of old and forced my mind to think.

Instantly, I found my mental space flooded with dozens of ideas on how to solve the task at hand. Some were of course nonsensical as usual, like seriously Mind what makes you think that spiking her ice cream with LSD and then subliminal messaging her into liking you would have even the remotest chance of success. Others however, were a little more tangible. More workable, you could say. In fact, daresay that with a bit of polish it might even… succeed? Now that was a change of pace I could get behind.

So after a brief filtering, I finally managed to settle on one which I thought would have the most chance of success.

Then I blew it up.

I let my mind wonder, let it simulate the consequences of every single intricate choice I would take from something as trivial as what attire I would wear to something as significant as where I would meet her, what I would do with her etcetera. Once this was done, I personally walk along the path, letting my heart be the decider of my actions. Some path I walked would naturally lead to my demise, a death by a thousand cuts. Despite this setback, I, undeterred as ever, would backtrack to look for an opportune route and recontinue my path. More often than not, even this wouldn't lead to anything meaningful, resulting in me having to go all the way back to square 1. Eventually, after hundreds of failures, I finally settled on a path that I believed would have the best chance of succeeding. Satisfied by this win, I shrunk this simulation down to a more handier size before delicately plucking this path from the mental cobweb I had created, letting the rest fall by its side in disarray. Then, just as carefully, I laid it into a secure box that was my permanent memory before locking it up tight.

Now that that was done, isn't it about time I made my return?

Thus slowly, I uncrossed my legs and then once that was done, I smoothly, slid both of them off the side of my bed. Despite this being the first time in days that I had touched the floor of my bedroom, it felt strangely reassuring. It seemed that being literally back on my feet has weirdly enough given me hope and you know what, if stupid actions like this is enough to trick my brain into rallying my spirit, I ain't complaining. So fuelled my this idiom based motivation, I shakily step one foot at a time towards my door. Yes, despite my mental motivation, it still wasn't enough to overcome being bed bound for 3 day funnily enough, though it did help. Once at the door, it was my hand's turn to do the job, and oh god has my fine motor skills seriously degraded over the past 3 days. It took me no less than 5 times to turn the knob, and half the time I almost slipped off the knob thanks to it's lack of use. Eventually I got a grip of myself and finally managed to turn the door knob all the way. Now all I was left to do was to push the door forward, and I would be back to civilisation.

Turning back one last time, I felt a sudden rush of déjà vu. Indeed, this is more or less a beat to beat remake of the last time in this room but unlike then I now had a purpose. Wait, didn't I also have the purpose the last time I was here..... Whatever this is not like the last one, this is a more stronger purpose, a more plot driver kind of purpose compared to the last one which makes it automatically better right? Catching myself starting to wonder, I quickly push aside these frivolous thoughts. These didn't matter now what mattered is you fixing the wrong you have done.

So with that in mind, I slowly opened the door to bright future that lay beyond......