A few days ago, I rediscovered ‘Lost One’s Weeping,’ a song I first encountered almost 7 years ago through Afterglow’s cover. With Mitake Ran (voiced by Sakura Ayane) delivering powerful screams, this version has always resonated with me more than the original Vocaloid version. The screams call for rebellion against the system, against society!
Back then, when I first heard this song, I didn’t fully get it (I was pretty naive), but I was in a situation similar to Mamoru (the boy in the video). Can you imagine, when I finally got a chance to get some actual medical attention for all my issues, that damn psychologist ended the very first session with something like — “A student’s job is to study”?
Could he ever imagine how hard it was for me to convince my mother that I needed help, that I needed medicines to reduce my pain?
A doctor’s job is to see every patient as a ‘real’ patient, not as a student or anything else.
A proper diagnosis from a psychologist was my last hope to make my mother realize that I was suffering. But man, my last hope betrayed me well. Society, rather every adult I have ever met, failed me. Everybody sees everyone else as a ‘student’, ‘teacher’, ‘friend’, or any other relation. But, have you ever seen someone as a human? Have you ever seen yourself as a ‘human’?
Every adult failed me, and they failed themselves too.
The song starts with the description of a blade cutting the veins (suicide) and ends with, “It doesn’t matter anymore.” Thus, to me, it is the internal monologue of a student who is dying by suicide. The student has several thoughts, several questions in his head, but in the end, whether they are answered or not doesn’t matter anymore.
He is dead. Does an apology ever reach the dead?
Have you seen those stupid motivators calling the victims of suicide ‘weak’?
I do not know how to react to them. I do not know what should I say to them. I just don’t know despite being called ‘weak’ so many times.
They were always wrong. I had done everything I could to live.
When I was finally close to getting medicines for my psychological issues, that bastard doctor called me ‘weak’ multiple times in front of my mother, who already didn’t think my pain was valid or real. After this moment, I gave up on her ever understanding me, as her belief of me being ‘weak’ and wailing over ‘tiny’ issues was solidified by a real doctor. He was not even a psychologist or psychiatrist; he was just someone who prescribed medicines for any condition (not just psychological). Forget about being a doctor, but as a human, could he ever understand how hard I was trying just to find a solution to my pain? Could he ever understand how hard it was to just be alive with my own self killing me every day?
That day, in that cabin, the way that man handled the situation was worst. My mother looked at me multiple times with an heartbreaking expression of guilt and fear. That expression pierces me. That man was the worst thing that has happened to us. He destroyed her trust in me; he made her feel guilty for my state; he called me “weak”. He did not stop even after witnessing that face. He kept calling me weak for crying through the whole meeting. That devil never had a mercy on us. I don’t even know why, I can’t even feel angry towards him. All I can do when I recall that memory is cry more. My heart still cannot fight back that memory.
Do you know how badly I hated myself?
Do you know how badly I wanted to die that day?
I had never experienced what it was like to live. Thanks to the stupid schooling system, I never got time to sit and feel my feelings.
All the adults, school or home, were the same (I do not know if I should use ‘were’ or ‘are’ because I no longer interact with adults). That doctor was the same and spoke the same junk—
“You are an intelligent student. Aim to be someone big—maybe an IAS officer… or a doctor like me.”
—Doctor like you? Like YOU?
Because of you, I cried like hell that night while making sure that my mother next to me could not hear me.
Because of you, I stopped feeling pain.
Not because it was gone, but because I could not feel anything anymore.
For days I remained in a completely numb state. My chest had never felt so hollow like there was no breath in it. You made sure that I didn’t remain a human anymore but instead became a wooden doll forever.
‘We’ve been carelessly intoxicated by hypnotism.’
All the adults were always under the influence of this stupid ‘hypnotism’ that the higher the prestige of the degree, the more intelligent the person.
Sure, doctors are intelligent. They survived a real hell.
But—
“Can you untie that rope around that kid’s neck?”
Can you stop ME from wanting to die out?
You were the reason I wanted to die so badly that day.
There was never a ‘want’ of death in my heart. But there was the ‘want’ of not being a ‘problem’ to others, not having to suffer anymore, and not becoming a slave to society.
I have always, always just wanted to live.
Do you understand what it is to live?
Broken Idiots 
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