There is a woman in my body who doesn't like to talk, but I feel her name is Club.
So my name is Abe, Club, Be.
Mom said I was sick. Am I sick?
I always stared at the club, even though I couldn't see her face clearly, I vaguely heard someone asking me why I was in a daze.
I checked into the small white room where I was alone, and that's when the club's first words to me were, "How pitiful."
Later, I killed someone, and those in the mental hospital were a group of people who needed [love].
[What they need is a vessel to place all their emotions on, and only I can be this vessel].
My name is Ali. My name is Abe.
The club's department.
Intention: It will get better