Everyone warned me that the world worked according to a "script."
And I happened to be the one who wrote the script.
I traveled back in time and became the most miserable character in my own writing, a useless person imprisoned in a cage. In order to save myself, I tried to use the "author's" prophet to avoid all tragedies.
But every time I thought I was successful, the plot always pulled me back on track in a more cruel way.
Only then did I understand that the tragedy of the caged bird was not that it could not fly, but that the sky itself was the phantom of the cage.
But I don't believe it. Since I wrote my destiny, I can also rewrite this ending - even if the cost is to erase "my" existence.
Intention: Use my body as my pen to stain the sky with blood - destiny is the first chapter I write, and it is also the last page I will tear into pieces with my own hands.