Yamada-san was absent for the entire day. Despite that, the class continued to its usual routine. No one else dared to talk to her, so I suppose even if she wasn’t present, it wouldn’t bear a change. Heck, I was mistaken. There was one concerned classmate. Well, generally she’d be concerned to anyone for she was our class rep. This time though, her feelings were mixed with anxiousness. Perhaps she still felt responsible for the girl’s absence. The last time Yamada-san was here, she showed everyone a different side of her. That was the first time we heard her yell in public. I didn’t think that the act brought her shame to the extent that she’d stop coming, though. I was far more intrigued by how she’d handle the bullying.

After school, Class Rep-san stood in front and told everyone that she would visit Yamada-san’s house to know the problem. She announced it in front of us, supposing that one would be concerned and join her, but since no one else volunteered, she declared, “Would someone want to come with me?”

My classmates glanced at her, most have definite excuses like:

“Sorry, we still have club activities.”

“I’m going home early today.”

“I have a curfew.”

“I already planned to go out with my friends.”

Some were blunt enough to say such as:

“That’s not our problem to handle.”

“I don’t even know her, why should I go?”

Things like that.

I stayed on my seat while observing them. When Class Rep-san and I exchanged a glance, I figured where this would lead me. She doesn’t want to go alone. Unfortunate for her, my “playing safe” status still won over my sympathy. I shook my head while staring at her direction. An easily perceived decline was my answer. No choice, Class Rep-san sighed in a loss and continued, “Okay then, I’ll go alone.”

She left the room as if nothing happened. My classmates also went on to their planned tasks. When everyone dispersed away, I stood up and tidied my things before leaving. Encompassing the hallway, I crossed a familiar girl. She was no other than Yamada-san’s hero. I guess I could call her that. Because each time Yamada-san encounters the bullies, that girl would always protect her. Well, she couldn’t “protect” her most of the time but, I guess effort still counts.

She was nice in nature so I thought she’d come to talk to me. I assumed that she’d be a hindrance to my straight-ahead walk. I even tried my best to ignore her presence. However, what she only did was a glance. She decided not to step in. At first, I felt relief, but the strange sensation also opened my doubts. There was something wrong with her. From afar, I see her down and troubled. I guessed Yamada-san was involved to the issue. Saturday last week, after class, did something terrible happened? Was it the reason why Yamada-san was absent today? My curiosity kicked in, yet I changed my mind not to bother. Trouble would always stay as trouble. Involving myself to such things would cause a disturbance. I wouldn’t benefit anything at it. That was no give and take so to speak.

The next day, I waited for Akamatsu-san at the railway station. I don’t know why I was looking forward to him. What was I excited about? Talking to him? Hearing out his problems? Making a piece of advice? I just couldn’t determine. Yet, there I was expecting for him to come. Perhaps I wanted myself to continue feeling like having a purpose. Take a look about it; the simple conversation that we’ve had yesterday made my day. I indeed gave him hope, but it was ironic to think that I too, broke free from my misguided direction. Up until yesterday, I was still in desperate of seeking my meaning of existence. Like what I told him, I was free to choose what I want to be, and my present choice was to lead him to a better life. That was a “give and take” situation for me. I help him overcome his boredom, on the other hand, I’d feel satisfied for I have a set “purpose” towards him. Together, we could thrive over our desolate life.

At least, that was what I envision between us. We’d meet every day here at the station. Talk about our day by day tribulations, laugh at our problems and stupidity, and inspire hope to each other. At that moment I thought, I wanted to save his life so that I could be saved too. He wasn’t the only one being killed by boredom. He wasn’t the only one feeling like the days would stay the same. He wasn’t the only one who couldn’t find satisfaction. He wasn’t the only one feeling insignificant. He wasn’t the only one who thinks of being accidentally born. He wasn’t the only searching for an identity. He wasn’t the only one seeking refuge. He wasn’t the only one who couldn’t find happiness.

I may have collected all the optimistic worldviews, but that general disposition couldn’t destroy the reality I was facing. Optimism was no other than turning a blind eye from the truth. I could survive the trials in life thanks to it, but achieving happiness and satisfaction was a different story. Yeah, survival was my goal. Do you think surviving is what it takes to consider yourself living? I doubt it.

How are we supposed to find the meaning of life if our life itself is meaningless?

That was the reason why I desire a purpose.

When you have a purpose, you’d have a goal. And when you have a goal, you’d break free from boredom. Purpose, if fulfilled, emits happiness and satisfaction. Yesterday when I gave him advice, I felt happy and satisfied. I found a “meaning” in my life.

A paradigm shift. He might be thinking that I was his hope, that he could rely on a stranger like me. Yet, at this point… wasn’t I the one clinging into him? Wasn’t I the one searching for a purpose through him? Unbelievable… but that was the truth. Glad that I accepted it already. If I lie to myself and dismiss the issue over and over, I could arrive at the point of being lost.

Anyway, supposing that he would come, he would’ve been here earlier. I waited for him enough that I let the trains pass. Was there a problem? I wonder. I looked at the time, I have been here for an hour, if I don’t ride the next one, I’d be late. When he didn’t arrive as I assumed, I entered the next train. I felt uneasy. It was an emotion that I couldn’t understand. Just because he didn’t come, I came up with plenty of suppositions like, he hates me, he doesn’t care about me, he had forgotten about me, I’m nothing special for him, my advice yesterday doesn’t offer help, he’s still depressed while locking himself in his room, or worse… he committed suicide.

I easily faltered. I was aware of overreacting, yet I kept to overreact. Maybe because I was raising too much hope and expectations? Damn! That might be the case. You couldn’t blame me though, that was just me being optimistic and all.

A white flower placed on a slim glass vase -that was what welcomed me inside the room. It was placed exactly on Yamada-san’s table. That was the first time I observed the entire class to be quiet. Little did I know, it was the end.

She had enough.

That was what everyone thinks around this time. In respect to Yamada-san, they all shut their mouths. However, no tears were shed except for one. It was evident that Yamada-san was no less important in the class. She has no friends, and she doesn’t want to have one. About our class rep? Even today I still couldn’t tell if she was doing it out of pity, concern, or duty. At any rate, here she was, the one student crying. She was willing to shed a tear at least, somehow because of guilt. What if yesterday when she went to Yamada-san’s house, she was already dead? I still don’t know the details, but suicide was the sole method that I have in mind. I couldn’t just go and ask directly. I don’t have friends whom I could demand an explanation. Class Rep-san may have witnessed how dreadful Yamada-san was. She hasn’t posed an apology for what happened last week, so the creeping remorse was still present. In fact, now that she was gone her deep regret would intensify.

I went to my seat. With all honesty, I don’t feel anything. Like everyone else inside this room, I felt like no one was missing. I don’t feel sorrowful, I have no hidden guilt, I don’t care. I don’t know her. I had a conversation with her last week. Other than that, I think about her as a stranger. Yes, I see her every day in the class, but does it count? She doesn’t have a big role in my life, she was like some of those dead people that I crossed in their funeral service. You’d observe their loved ones crying, but that was it. It wasn’t enough for me to cry too. Frankly speaking, I would rather shed a tear for the death of a fictional character that I like from books, or cry because of listening to a sad song. Right, it was about impact. Yamada-san’s life was devoid of anything. She has no memory to be remembered dearly. In the class, she wasn’t a missing part of the puzzle. She was nothing but an extra piece that could be thrown away. My description may sound harsh, but it was the truth.

Forget about the downside, if you look at it, at least she was freed from pain. I was the first person here who could relate most to her living hell. I know how hard it was to be enslaved to fear. The reality about how cruel people were surrounding you, was nonetheless enough reason to give up. Sometimes, you just have to accept and yield. Is that what I’m trying to say? It was like, I don’t give value to “life” in general.

She was sick of playing the same game every day. She kept on losing no matter what. Thus, selected the “quit game” option. Too bad, she didn’t even attempt to fight. She let go of her console without realizing that there were special buttons for her character to hit, move around to evade an attack, use unique skills, etcetera. If she knew it beforehand… there would’ve been a chance that she’d emerge victoriously.

Wasn’t it my fault for not suggesting her to play tutorial? Nah, that wasn’t the case. What happens to her, was her choice and responsibility. Whether I interfere or not, the outcome would stay the same.

That’s for certain.

The class started with our homeroom teacher speaking about Yamada-san’s tragic fate. In her message, she talked about how good Yamada-san was. It was obvious that pretty words would come out of her mouth. The unending praises from her eulogy made each of us think that our homeroom teacher knows her entire story and about how bullying destroyed her daily life. If someone courageous was to ask “Why didn’t you help her?” I wonder what kind of face she’d present. We as fellow classmates don’t have the will to offer help because fear stood in our way. Unlike them, who were adults and has more authority in the school, would’ve made a difference if they act. No doubt they have reasons, but lately, the alternate name “excuse” was more accurate. Was it because they were busy? Was it because it was stressful? Or was it because they don’t care.

Either way, it was too late now. We couldn’t relive that day in the past which ruined our present. If we continued to look back, we’d welcome “guilt” to ourselves. Perhaps just like me, Yamada-san’s life has no significant meaning on our homeroom teacher’s biography. Suicide was a common thing in this cursed country, after all. When I became an adult, for sure I’d hear about an old colleague who committed suicide. Perhaps my homeroom teacher was on the same scope of what I imagined. I should respect her choice too.

I was not in the position to argue with her since all that I could do was to observe. I was also knowledgeable of the fact that Yamada-san was bullied. They said that wrong choices accompanied consequences. In this case, I selected the wrong option. With the bad end surfacing upon my present, what was gonna be the consequence? Guilt? Regrets? Atonement? At this moment I feel neither. In due time, would something wrong happen to me?

Our homeroom teacher was done with her drowning message. Then, our first subject commenced. The class was normal… the usual routine where the teacher asks a question and the students raise their hands for an answer. Each subject, the very first topic from our teachers was about Yamada-san. One talked about her issues, one of them warned us about how bad suicide was, the other gave us awareness about how depression and hopelessness attacks every individual -in fact, it was something I could relate most. Lastly, someone shared a story about how he was bullied too in his days in high school. I told myself: This is the first-time Yamada-san gathered the attention of everyone in the class. At the moment she was dead, sadly.

Throughout the day, I consider myself to be in a dream. Whenever I stared at the flower placed on the table, I was still in disbelief about the truth. My mind was disoriented. I wasn’t sure if this was a common occurrence whenever someone we know passed away. Death was always instant. Personally, I don’t believe in a slow death. Even if someone was terminally ill, -saying that he was undergoing a slow painful death- when his deadline comes his loved ones would always be in decline of the tragedy. Try to imagine how a person you know would be gone forever one day. He was not in a long trip so you would never see, touch, hear, nor feel him again. Death was surreal in a sense that all the qualities of a person you know vanishes in an instant. Your subconscious wouldn’t be able to adapt to the sudden change. In my situation, for example, I was used to staring at Yamada-san’s seat, so now that she wouldn’t come back, it felt hard to accept it.

I was feeling a fraction of what her parents would feel. I hope they’d cry for her because tears identify love and concern towards the deceased. I remembered, aside from Class Rep-san and Yamada-san’s relative, there was another person who was hurt most. The girl I crossed yesterday at the hallway.