Sometimes, people just don't learn. No, it was foolish of me to take that claim for granted. I mean, I never do.

Mistake after mistake keeps piling up until it's a mess—like a knot tied over and over until it can't be untangled. But that's what life is all about: trial and error. Take risks, gamble everything; if you lose, then lesson learned.

That's what I believed when I was young. Life seemed so easy as long as you didn't give up. However, as I grew older, I realized that wasn’t the case. It was too hard—hellish even—for my immature mind.

I wish I could stay a young, naive kid forever, unburdened by harsh realizations, pressure, and everything else. If only I could turn back time over and over or erase my memories, my life might have been better.

I look at myself in the mirror and see the pathetic adult I've become. No, I’m not a drunkard, a smoker, or an addict. I’m just a normal man, a simple man, a boring man—unloved by the world.

As a kid, I chose and swore to become an upright, educated man. A kind soul who would do good for society and the world. Yet, the world did not reciprocate those feelings. My fate was sealed with depression and unworthiness, tortured by society’s indifference.

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And then I look at others, my teeth sinking into my lips. Envy.

I envy those people who seem to enjoy life—those men who know no bounds in morals. Those confident fools who think they are smart. They keep making mistakes, again and again, yet the world grants them second, third, even fourth chances.

Meanwhile, a single mistake of mine cost me everything.

Second chances are not granted to all.

That is the truth.

I held her hands dearly, lovingly. Her gentle fingers intertwined with mine. Soft touches of affection between our skins as she smiled, radiant like sunshine. I met her at the library, and with one look at her face, my heart melted—squeezed like a fruit pouring sweetness into a cup of thoughts.

Her eyes held the future—my destiny with her. Us, holding hands at the altar as doves soared above, the priest praying for eternal bliss, our commitment to be as one before the Lord.

But it was a delusion that never came true. She accused me of harassment. That was when I discovered it was all a façade. She already had a man in her life—a man who broke my legs, forcing my doctor to amputate them, rendering me unable to walk ever again.

It was a mistake to trust. It was a mistake to fall in love.

Tears roll down my face as I stare from the terrace of my hospital room. I sit in my wheelchair, spinning the wheels until my weight tips me forward, above the edge. I look down at the bustling cars below and smile.

I was kind to the world; the world did not do the same. Yet, I am still in love with it.

And so, in my last moments, may my flesh and blood embrace the world with passion—so that, perhaps, it may finally understand: I just wanted to be loved the same.