"There is this boy I’ve known for a few years now. Though, for you, the concept of time probably doesn't really exist in this accursed place. But I am sure you know who and what I am talking about, so let’s not screw around with superfluous details…
… This boy has no dreams, no ambition, no desires of his own. His very existence was empty and hollow. Terms like 'kind,' 'attentive,' and 'helpful' were all that defined him in the eyes of the world. The perfect archetype of the 'good person.' In short, someone insipid and bland. His life was gray and bleak, containing only the colors that others painted onto him.
This kind of person could be described in no other way than 'pathetic' and 'pitiful.' One can only pity such an existence that has nothing for itself and everything for others—pity it as much as it should be applauded.
But I don’t pity this boy, oh no. He irritates me to no end.
I have never seen someone have so much for himself, yet still sacrifice himself entirely for others. This guy doesn’t suffer from a lack of personality; he conscientiously erases it for the benefit of others. His goodness is nothing but a facade, his empathy a curse he has imposed on himself like a punishment that will follow him throughout his life, and even beyond.
A life dedicated to others and not for oneself.
… Dammit. It’s incredible how much this asshole pisses me off. I have never hated and been so disgusted by a person before, and yet I’ve crossed paths with some real bastards.
I simply cannot accept such a life. I cannot condone such an existence, physically or spiritually. I thought it was just the intrinsic difference in our essences making me react like this, but it’s more than that. This guy is a fucking anomaly.
Stop laughing! I swear this guy is driving me crazy. And the worst part is, I had the misfortune of seeing his end—of seeing his death in a vision.
This alienated way of living became his ideal, an ideal that forced him over and over to carry the weight of others and abandon what represented him. He raised his weapon and fought for others, without ever tiring, without ever failing. He fought countless battles, alone, abandoned and rejected by everyone.
He was ready to damn himself for the greater good. So, he fought until the end of the world, surviving for centuries and centuries, forgetting everything of who he was and remembering only his goal—the goal of others.
And even when this ideal proved useless at the end of his life, when nothing could be saved by his end, not once did he regret the choices he made to lead such a life. He did not regret his pain, his wounds, or his traumas. Even less so having forgotten who he was, and all the people he loved or hated in his previous life. No, he regretted the end of his suffering, for it meant the end of an idyllic dream that had nothing to do with him.
He died without a smile on his lips…
Fuck, he makes me so angry!
I hate this guy, I detest everything he represents. I hate everything about his life, and everything about his future death. I hate that soft and warm smile he wears at every fucking opportunity, a smile that always hides a pain and suffering he constantly conceals from others! I hate the fact that he doesn't care about himself, when there is so much within him. I hate those pathetic eyes that only look at others but never look at themselves.
I hate his sickly and stubborn kindness.
I hate the fact that he continues, again and again, to let himself be erased; I hate his wish to disappear for the sake of others.
So, I want to destroy that wish, the best I can. For no other reason than the hatred I have for him.
I want someone to remember him. I will do everything to make that happen, so that this shitty future can never come to pass, even if I have to destroy this kindness that the world loves so much.
And if I don’t succeed… I hope you, you remember.
I know you already know everything, that you already see everything, but I want you, in whatever way possible, to tell his story. Even if there is little chance it will help him, if by some chance someone else arrives in this place, tell them about this idiot who wishes to be forgotten.
Tell them about Georges Badji…
… Can you make me that promise?"