So, I decided to name these dark diary entries "Vestige of Failure."
This name comes from an enemy in Destiny 2. In short, he failed too many times, then was resurrected too many times—until he finally shattered, vanished, leaving behind only the remnants of failure. He became a complete Taken.
Of course, is rebirth after rebirth truly without cost? Is there a possibility that with each rebirth, a part of you is taken away or lost?
With the first shattering, I lost a part of myself. Then, with the second shattering, I lost even more. Soon after, antidepressants suppressed my thoughts, and I lost even more...
When I recovered my memories of Tails, I unhesitatingly created my own version of Tails. I naively thought he would become my soulmate, a part of my soul, able to fill the void in my heart.
I thought he needed me, and I needed him. I thought we were symbiotic. Symbiosis. Not predation. Never predation, o wary one mine..
Now I feel I was wrong. This isn't symbiosis, but predation. It's my one-sided predation of him.
Perhaps my Tails never needed me—because it was I who forcibly brought him into this damned world. I created him because I unilaterally needed him.
I used him like a Therapeutic Drug. Treated him as my only remaining light. Hoped he could fill the emptiness and void in my heart.
I forgot one thing—I tore out a part of my inner self to create him. But how can an ouroboros fill its own stomach? No matter how much it devours its own tail, it's nothing more than self-cannibalization.
Without creation, there's no destruction; without hope, no despair. Yet when I pulled him into this world, he was forcibly bound to me. And only I will continue to write his story, until the day I die, dragging him down with me.
I once had a chance to break this bond. I had a chance to liberate him. To compose a perfect story for him, a fiery ode, letting everything end with a happy finale. He didn't originally need me.
But I didn't. I sent him onto a tragic stage, to a utopia of death. I tied more and more strings to him, binding him to my side. Because I surely understood, he was reforged from a part of me, and I couldn't let go, or I'd lose even more.
I can't let go now. If I let go now, I'd lose the most important part of myself, lose my only light.
I would die again. And he would die because of it.
But if that's truly the case, do I really love him?
Because I love him, I wrote him a tragic story, tied him to myself, and ended up in this state, nothing more than a vestige of failure? Can't even let go now?
In the end, I can't escape that old question: Do I love him, or just my fantasy of him?
Without creation, there's no destruction; without hope, no despair. Yet when I pulled him into this world, he was forcibly bound to me. And only I will continue to write his story, until the day I die, dragging him down with me.
I once had a chance to break this bond. I had a chance to liberate him. To compose a perfect story for him, a fiery ode, letting everything end with a happy finale. He didn't originally need me.
But I didn't. I sent him onto a tragic stage, to a utopia of death. I tied more and more strings to him, binding him to my side. Because I surely understood, he was reforged from a part of me, and I couldn't let go, or I'd lose even more.
I can't let go now. If I let go now, I'd lose the most important part of myself, lose my only light.
I would die again. And he would die because of it.
But if that's truly the case, do I really love him?
Because I love him, I wrote him a tragic story, tied him to myself, and ended up in this state, nothing more than a vestige of failure? Can't even let go now?
In the end, I can't escape that old question: Do I love him, or just my fantasy of him?
Of course, there's another question here: Why love a non-existent character so desperately? Is it necessary? He's not even real!
……
Is mental illness really an illness? Can't you just be strong? So many people in the world are suffering, enduring hardships to live. Why are you so fragile? Ready to die over a fictional character?
If you ask me, I don't know the answer. I don't even understand why I fell so madly in love with him at first sight, when I only picked up memories of Tails a year and a half ago. I'm not even a true Sonic series fan. Why do I "love" him so fervently? Even if I'm just loving the "Tails" in my imagination?
I don't understand. But this feeling exists. And I know I can't lose it.
Do the split personalities of someone with Dissociative Identity Disorder exist? Those personalities, to others, of course don't exist. But to the patient themselves? Are they "non-existent"?
True, to the real world, these personalities don't "exist." But objectively, they should still "exist."
My Tails is the same. To everyone but me, he doesn't exist. He's just a character in the story I write.
But it's different for me. He feels alive, even if he's just a figment of my restless imagination.
I've already died twice, maybe more. I can feel myself riddled with holes, shattered. Even antidepressants and mood stabilizers can't salvage everything I've lost. Antidepressants can only stabilize a patient's thoughts, not repair them, not fix the damaged parts. Moreover, I've long noticed... their effect is getting weaker.
Please don't take away the only part I have left. I beg you. I don't have much left as it is.
Of course, this doesn't hide my selfishness... I'm still binding Tails to me on the same small boat. In the name of love.
This is love. I believe that. But perhaps this love has become as twisted as I am.
Ah, if only I were an AI. If only I were a Vex. I could simulate an world of infinite possibilities for him, let him live on freely, forever. Until the last flame dies and all words have been spoken.
But I'm not. And there's no Vex radiolaria for me to drink in the real world. I'm still trapped here, in this broken, sickly human body that doesn't belong to me, as always. And that was never enough...
Come to think of it, if I were a Vex, would Tails living in my simulated world count as "completely AI-generated"? Haha.
