I look up at the sky, a vast expanse of blue: the first image of youth.
We were young and naive, believing that sheer determination would let us command our own world.
In truth, we were only fish, tiny fish in the long, unhurried river of fate.
Unwilling to drift with the current, we struggled with all our strength to swim upstream.
In the end, our scales fell away one by one, and the merciless, surging water battered our bodies until they were torn and bleeding.
But I never regretted it. I wanted to stand on the shore as a fish, gazing down at the river with proud, untouchable defiance, even if, in the end, I could not draw another breath.
You once said that no matter what happened, you would stand behind me.
Now, do you still remember the promise you made back then?
