Classroom of the Elite | The Hoax of Life

Prologue

November 17, 2016
Unknown POV:

"Hah... hah... hah..."

I collapsed on the floor of my house while struggling to breathe, my lungs hurt like shit when they were expanding, no that's not it, it's like they weren't able to expand properly at all. I knew exactly what this was: Pneumothorax, also known as a lung collapse.

If one were to look at me right now they wouldn't even be able to tell that I'm in immense pain right now, no one can. I had incredible pain tolerance, but that aside I had just grown used to not showing a reaction when going through either emotional or physical pain. But then again, that's the story of almost every other man with a responsibility upon him.

I was a bit caught off-guard by this sudden lung collapse, but not exactly surprised, because, truthfully, I had planned all of this way before. No, not the lung collapse itself, but my death. I originally planned on overdosing on antidepressants that don't even make me feel better, but that's ok, as a matter of fact, this way it's even better. Because if I were to OD, I wouldn't have been able to write a final message to those who care about me. Although I personally never really felt the same attachment to them the way they felt for me, it is still ok. Because I know I was grateful for whatever all of them had done.

I slowly got up while struggling to breathe in immense pain and made my way to my house's library, a huge library I had built in this house I lived alone in, something many would find unbelievable considering how I'm still a teenager. I had built this library because a certain silver-haired girl I knew had made me build up a habit of reading, she also happened to be the one I was most excited to write to. I can just imagine how hard she would cry if she were to see me right now, she would hold me, hug me, and shower me with kisses if she saw just how pathetic my living conditions were right now. She would also give me a tight slap to the cheeks but then hug me and cry and apologize for hurting me, oh just how kind she was. But it's too bad I couldn't see her for the past few years, and after I'm dead I won't be able to forever for obvious reasons.

It's disheartening to live with the tragic fact that the one you love most is someone who you aren't allowed to love.

But it doesn't make me sad, not anymore, I had isolated myself from everyone who cared for me and loved me to the point where it now feels like I never really had anyone to begin with. It's most definitely unfair to those who cherished me and cared for me regardless of my circumstances and the way I am, but that's just life. Hell, I'd even sent my dogs off to my adopted father just so they didn't have to see the state I would've been in when I inevitably met my demise through the plan that I had set to work in for the past few months. If I were to see them right now, they would most probably piss out of excitement of seeing me and the Husky would howl like a wolf out of excitement. I would probably cry too if I was able to, but I can't. I'm neither allowed nor capable of crying.

I sat down at the library's table and looked at the small mirror I had placed on the table, I saw dark circles covering my eyes, my hair growing to my neck, and my messy overgrown beard. My never-changing facial expressions and my purely black orbs... How bad I've always hated my eyes...

looking back at my past, I don't think there has ever been a moment where I have been able to admire my own body, my face, even though I always received compliments from people who claimed that I was apparently "Beautiful" but how can I be beautiful? Perhaps they liked my confidence, but I never actually had any confidence, I faked my pride, faked the strong self that everyone thought I was. I did it because there's nothing like holding your head up high when you're dead inside, that feeling and the self-awareness of that made me tingle a bit.

Ugly!

I grabbed the mirror and threw it on the wall where it collided and shattered to pieces. I took out a few pages from the drawer of my table and took out a few pages and grabbed a pen from the table.