Prologue Entry #1

                                    

                                          

Prologue 
This world is cruel and merciless. Everything is falling apart—my life, the people around me, the environment. All deteriorating and decaying. I hate this city to the absolute core. I wish for it to be engulfed in flames—flames from hell itself—wiped off the map permanently.
Concrete skyscrapers stretch endlessly towards the sky, casting shadows on streets littered by trash and the homeless. There's nothing here that means anything to me anymore. Every corner, every face, every damn day is a reminder of everything I've just lost. 
Juno's gone. This city, once our home, is now a graveyard of memories. I see her in everything—every shadow, every sound, every movement. No matter how far I run, it's inescapable; it lurks beneath the surface. 
I need to get out of here. I need to escape this suffocating maze of concrete and despair. Somewhere far away, maybe I can find a place to breathe, to think, to heal. Or maybe, just maybe, I can find a reason to believe in something. 
If I stay here any longer, I might actually go insane. 
Entry #1
Life has been a bit more peaceful now that I've moved. The city's clamor and chaos are gone. Replaced by a peaceful stillness. Time moves at its own leisurely pace in this town, Izu. It's a beautiful city. 
Nestled deep within the forest, my home is a cottage sheltered beneath a canopy of trees. Today, it's filled with the sound of raindrops tapping against the windows and hitting the roof, the scent of damp earth and pine trees filling the air. The rain has a way of casting a spell over the forest, transforming the world into an unearthly landscape. 
Branches sway in the harsh breeze, leaves shimmering with the iridescence of raindrops caught in their embrace. The horizon blurs and fades, adding to the air of mystery that hangs over this landscape. 
A soothing melody of rain echoes through the cottage. The steady pattern against the window creates a mesmerizing dance of droplets, each one tracing a winding path down the glass. I find myself drawn to this performance, my gaze fixated on the intricate patterns they create. I find solace in these quiet moments by the window, where I can lose myself in the gentle flow of life. 
It's a fleeting respite from the weight of my memories, a temporary reprieve from the ache that lingers. I can't seem to get over why it had to be me. I don't think I ever will.
And journaling is supposed to help how? How is it any different from wallowing in sadness? 
...
The rain tapping the window is a rhythmic reminder that even here, the storm isn't over.