Copyright © 2026 Daniel Boen

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission of the author.

First published in Singapore, 2026.

Author’s Note

This isn’t a novel. It’s an edited adaptation of a real kid’s diary.The events, conversations, and observations in this book are based on memory. While every effort has been made to remain truthful, some details may differ from how others involved remember them. Some names and identifying details have also been changed.

This book reflects different versions of the same person. As a result, the narrator may sound older in one chapter, younger in another, wiser in one paragraph, and completely ridiculous in the next.

This is not a story about heroes, prophecies, or saving the world. It’s mostly about a boy trying to make sense of himself and the people around him while carrying around a concerning amount of existential dread.

Topics include identity crises, accidental bleeding, quiet rage, social awkwardness, and a persistent urge to disappear into the floor during conversations.

No one dies. Unfortunately .

If you’re looking for answer, this book may disappoint you.I didnt managed to find it either.If you’re looking for company, I will be haunting you in spirit

Chapter uno 

I planned it when I was fourteen, Earth age. I thought I would be more calm, collected even, but I was a mess. My hands were shaking like crazy, my mind speeding like Superman zooming through the city. The anxiety—God, it was insane. I tied that leash around my neck, two rounds, crying and choking like a dumbass. Well, for those who died before, you know that dying is the least torturous part of the whole Spider-Man hanging experience.

My last bit of dignity punched me to take that leap of faith into the “most practical solution” I could come up with to solve the problem—to solve me.

And there I was, fully embracing myself with that beautiful dog leash (I later found out it was pink, but I was too color blind to notice at that moment). First, it was the feeling that my spine was being forced to break apart. I thought I could even feel the gaps in between the bones, where my remaiconsciousness rushed to fit inside. My cheeks were burning, I felt like my eyeballs were about to shoot out of my head. My vision went blurry—the room was already dark. All that was left were my body and a soul leaving that body. I heard my parents—they were still yelling. What were they saying? I couldn’t hear, but I bet they won’t feel the need to do that anymore.

I also heard my window being slowly broken down, just like my airways and neck—the sound of metal bending and snapping.

Many say your life flashes before your eyes at your final moments.

Bullshit.

I couldn’t even see. No sentimental montages, no childhood memories—just one overwhelming fact: I am suffocating.

Wait a minute. Did I just say the window was snapping? The same window I am hanging from, right now?

The next thing I knew, I was back on the ground. There was a sudden rush of numbness that can only be described as water being poured from my head to toes. I was holding on to the breaking window. I was scared my mom would scold me if I broke it. That’s when it hit me—again. I was almost gone. Why did I have to care about this stupid window? And I had already lost all my ability to move as I was hanging for so long.

How did I get off the leash and hold on to the window?

HOW?

The window didn’t break off.

I put it back.

And there I was again. No feelings at all. I didn’t know what to feel. My eyes stuck together by dried tears, my eye bags burning. I sat on my bed and slowly laid down. Everyone was noisy, yet no one was making a sound.

I am pretty sure that I just died.