oo0.  prolouge

You know, I've always hated myself. Self-loathing is much easier than hating someone else, or when someone else hates you. This hatred... It burns inside of you, and is also directed at you; it brings twice as much suffering.

Self-hatred - to kill yourself inside out, not being able to forgive or repent. Self-hatred - to resign yourself to eternal torment in an attempt to find yourself again. And I hated myself.

I never cared for the opinions of others, for all of their "true" rumors about myself. I knew I shouldn't listen to their words, knowing that they would hurt me, but to me, it felt impossible at the time. In part, such immunity to foreign estimates was caused by my selfish characteristic, and partly by my apathy to the outside world. I had one goal, and nothing was going to interfere with it, especially not the opinions of others. That is, until he came along.

He came to our school a little bit later into the year. He fascinated the students as well as the teachers: a smart, sympathetic boy, whose smile could melt any block of ice - so he seemed. I must confess, he seemed somehow shallow, superficial, this thirst of his for knowledge irritated and did not make a good impression on me. I didn't like him from the start.

He was not familiar with our school, and he knew nothing about me (or so I thought). Classmates and fellow students told