Diary of the Guardian of an Idiot

I have fantasized about the scene after my death more than once. The cold machinery emits harsh alarms in a straight line, doctors rush to rescue, heavy sighs, and relatives heart-wrenching shouts. And I, watching them in this bright corridor. Everyone is confused, yes, I am only 23 years old this year. I deeply remember the feeling of weightlessness when I jumped from a high altitude, and the blood rushing out of my body when I fell to the ground. I really want to die gracefully, but maybe it only exists in a fairy tale world. In reality, my death is ugly. I have not seen a psychiatrist or taken antidepressant medication. If you don't know what your illness is, you can pretend that I'm not sick. For two years, I have allowed the virus to jump freely in my brain cells. I have occasionally thought about living a good life, but this desire is just a drop in the bucket. This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.