The Loner’s Despair
My body felt heavy and listless. After sleeping deeply for so long, I rubbed my eyes, which were trying to close again, and slowly sat up. As soon as the blanket fell away, cold air pierced my skin. The room was still dark and quiet. The curtains were drawn, and sunlight had no intention of entering today either.
I must have cried myself to sleep last night, because my eyes stung and throbbed underneath. Forcing my heavy eyelids to stay open, I took a dazed breath. A long yawn escaped me, along with some meaningless mutterings.
“What should I do today…… I only played games yesterday and barely ate, so I’m hungry. Gotta eat something, chat with my online friends…… and…… and what else……?”
I trailed off and shut my mouth. In that instant, a sharp pain stabbed at my chest for no reason. My vision blurred faintly, losing focus. Pressing my chest against the suffocating sensation didn’t help; the tightness refused to ease.
For the past year, holed up in this room, nothing particularly bad had happened. Living like this wasn’t normal, but I’d at least gotten used to it. Today felt off, though. Anxiety gnawed at me without cause, and even without any incident, a corner of my heart felt like it was crumbling.
I flicked on the computer out of habit. The boot-up chime echoed through the quiet room, sounding unnaturally loud. I wiped away the streaming tears with the back of my hand.
“Dust in my eyes or something…… haha. Crying does make them moist…… hic…… moist……”
My words faded into a slur. Even I had to laugh at how pathetic it sounded. It was the start of another day utterly devoid of nutrition or meaning. If I didn’t mutter to myself, even nonsense, I couldn’t bear the emptiness. Deep down, I wanted to talk to someone. But no easy way to fill that void came to mind. I’d long forgotten how to approach people.
How did my life end up like this?
Just a year ago, I’d been a completely different person. Not timid, not this weak. I didn’t avoid people. I was an ordinary boy who laughed more than anyone and loved making friends. During exam season, I’d grumble but pull all-nighters with them, bursting into laughter at the dumbest jokes.
That me started shunning people the moment I noticed the bizarre symptoms of my gender changing. My heart tore apart cruelly from then on. Completely, without a single piece left intact. Unable to cope with my body gradually turning female, I shut myself in this room. I severed ties myself, pushing people away on purpose. I cut off contact, canceled plans, skipped school. I killed the version of myself who loved people and chose to become a loner.
I didn’t even go to the school I’d attended every day. My backpack gathered dust in the corner.
Is it okay to keep living like this?
No one in the family except Mom spoke to me anymore. To be precise, I’d made it so they couldn’t. Days were so lonely and grueling that muttering to myself like a madman became a habit. Even if no one listened, I felt like I’d collapse without speaking.
This was pure self-flagellation.
“It’s self-flagellation……”
Clutching my throbbing chest, I forced a bitter smile. The feel of my skin under my hand felt foreign. I couldn’t even remember how I used to smile or put on a bright face in front of people a year ago. Now, I was just a burden to my family. A rice-munching parasite who did nothing but eat.
Belittling myself like that made my thoughts pause, if only for a moment. After a good cry, the pressure on my chest eased a bit. Sometimes it felt like my emotions were washing away with the tears. But this loneliness never faded, no matter what. Occasionally, I even wished I had no emotions at all.
If I had no emotions, it wouldn’t hurt this much.
I blankly wiped my tears. So much had changed in a year. The room that once had its door open, letting in sunlight, had become a sealed space where not even light seeped through. The air was heavy, time crawling slower than ever, as if frozen here.
“Like a corpse……”
The thought hit me suddenly. I breathed, but I didn’t feel alive. The moment I cut off human connections and stayed in this room, I was as good as dead. Still, my hunger proved I was clinging to this unreasonable reality somehow.
“The rice…… it’s cold……”
I poked at the hardened rice with my spoon and shoved some side dish into my mouth. No taste registered. No emotions—just chewing and swallowing mechanically. Why did Mom still take care of a mess like me? Ever since I became a loner, not a single day passed without her looking after me. She was the only one in the family extending a hand.
Yet I couldn’t take it. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. My body had changed irreversibly, solitude driving me mad. Fear piled up, weakening even my body. Some days walking was a struggle; other nights, breathing was hard enough to ruin my sleep. My heart raced for no reason, jolting me awake.
I’d become a being without dreams or hope.
And yet.
“Mom…… I don’t want to die…… I want to go back to the old me……”
The words slipped out unconsciously—raw truth from lips that hadn’t tried. Pathetically earnest for someone who’d done nothing.
My body was steadily turning female. When I first noticed the changes, I loathed myself but forced a smile, pretending it was fine day by day. I believed I could hide it and live normally. But that was just my vain hope for happiness.
“This…… this isn’t me…… it’s not……”
Swelling chest, changing genitals, shrinking frame and softening curves, unrealistically lengthening hair. Hiding it all was excruciating. Staring at my reflection, I began cursing myself bit by bit. When I could hide it no longer, I shut everything out.
At first, confined to this corner, I attempted suicide countless times. The scars on my right wrist would never fade. I hated myself for wanting to die but never following through.
“School…… I can’t go anymore.”
Muttering as I recalled Mom’s note.
“Not with this body……”
All the things that had been so natural were gone. I wanted to go back to being male. To the real me, not this changing shell. The world was unfair and cruel. I wished this was all a dream.
“I want…… to wake up…… from this dream……”
Clutching scissors in both hands like a last hope, the cold metal grazed my throat. My whole body trembled. This was a dream. A nightmare. If I just woke up, I could go back to school, talk with family, laugh with friends. I wanted to believe that.
That’s when a voice came from outside the door.
“The door’s open…… Sua-ya, Mom made some of your favorites……”
The next moment, a frantic shout followed.
“Sua!! Put that down!! What are you doing?!”
The scissors flew from my hand, clattering to the floor. I was pulled into a warm embrace. Blinking my eyes open, I saw Mom’s tear-streaked face.
Ah, this isn’t a dream.
I tried to flee again. Without thinking of those I’d leave behind, seeking ease alone. Coward. Idiot. Loner.
Buried in Mom’s arms, I cried soundlessly. My thin, pale hands gripped her back tightly.
“Mom will help you…… please don’t bear it alone……”
It was the first family warmth I’d felt in nearly a year. Mom looked like she’d broken down alongside me over that time. Her shoulders were noticeably gaunt, trembling faintly with every breath. Her strength had long been depleted.
Yet she never let go. If she did, I might run again. As if knowing that, her arms tightened—unyieldingly firm, leaving no escape. My breath caught.
Strangely, it didn’t feel suffocating. Not uncomfortable. Her embrace, after so long, was that comforting.
“Tell me why…… are you hurting somewhere?”
Her trembling voice pierced my ears. My heart lurched at those words. I wanted to speak. Right now, honesty might be okay. Spilling it all could let me breathe again. Fragile hope filled my mind.
But I was a coward. I couldn’t voice my situation.
My body has become female. I lacked the courage for that one sentence. If I’d had it, I’d have left this room long ago.
“I’m sorry…… I’m sorry……”
The apologies burst out.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m…… sorry……”
Meaningless repetition. But it was all I could manage.
“Hic…… sob……”
Lacking courage, I poured out my pent-up emotions through apologies. The truth was still too scary.
Mom didn’t scold me. Didn’t pry. She just soothed my back wordlessly, as if waiting for the tears to stop. Her touch was slow, careful—holding me from fleeing without hurting. In that moment, I realized it.
Our mom was truly strong. Willing to shatter herself to hold onto me.