I am motionless and sick. Tired and disgusted with everything. Depressed and listless. As usual, the roof and balcony of the house have become my safe haven. Against everything that seems like a nightmare to me in life. I am sick of them.

I am tired of everything. I am sick of myself. I feel trapped in a limbo. There is no way back. In the limbo of life from the age of twenty to thirty. I am almost twenty-something. I am still busy. Let alone Yalda, whom I love. Haha.

I threw myself on the ground. A breeze comes from the seam inside. Fragrant but damp. Stuck in a swamp. But looking for a flow. Looking for my wheezing at the height of my scream. Sweet but painful.

It is very difficult. Come out of your beautiful world. This time I will crush your dick if you give me the good news of a better tomorrow. I'm tired of this awful wait. I'm sick of your empty, noisy people.

But Yalda said everything will be fine.

Whose daughter is Yalda?

The daughter of the same father I killed.

So don't talk anymore.

But.

There's no but. Repeat it to me. I'm a bruise on the cheek of reality.

I'm a bruise on the cheek of reality.

Finally, I poured my poison on Yalda's father. So that he wouldn't have to keep saying I'm crazy. Or saying you're depressed. And giving me useless pills. I'd have to throw everyone away. You know. I'm sick of your empty, noisy people. I'm sick of the whole system of the world.

I'm getting sicker and sicker day by day. I feel like my cell has grown bigger. More useless than before. Nothing makes me feel better. Except Yalda. But after that spit in my face. He said I don't want to see you anymore. Everything has become meaningless. I feel like I'm withering away like a flower day by day.

Sometimes a strange feeling says. Make yourself comfortable. Throw yourself down from the roof. But there has always been another feeling. It's as if I came from another world. When I kill myself, I'll go to a worse world. In this pale world, there is no trace of my growth.

You know. The interpretation of the world from my perspective is three words. The period of humanity's decline. The period of suffering and pain. Soraya's destination, but with a crooked foundation. I hate it so much. Whoever says everything will be fine. I'll crush his jaw.

The expectations I've endured are enough. For the things that didn't benefit me.

Today I'm doing my job completely. I listen to the voice inside. I'm throwing myself down from the roof.

My only joy was Yalda. She's gone too. Now I have nothing to lose. I killed Yalda's father too.

Wow. What if the cameras in Yalda's father's office have my face. What if she helps the police find me. Maybe Yalda will expose me to the police.

No. Yalda won't expose you. If the cameras have captured your face, it's okay. Because you want to kill yourself today and feel comfortable.

Yes, you're right. Yalda doesn't do that. The police will know when it's over.

But what fun we had. When her blood spilled on the floor. It was as if I had taken out all my complexes on her head.

Yes, really. It was one of the things I've wanted to do for a long time. Today, her spell broke. I killed her and ended everything.

I'm the product of suicide in another world.

Grief has become like delicious food to me. I live in this magnificent illusion called the world. Drugs don't work for pain. I'm a fool to think that painkillers are medicine. These only hurt my head. Everything makes me sick.

As always, I left the door half open. It was as if the breeze had been dragging me to the roof for ten minutes. My steps were getting heavier. Step by step. I reached the spiral stairs. Thinking about falling and taking sweet revenge on Yalda's father and everyone who didn't want me.

I'm sick of everything.

I'm on the edge of the roof. The earth is calling me. It's pulling me towards it. It's saying jump. You can. It's like the earth wants to hug me. Above my head is the big sky. Under my feet is no more than a three-story building. But I'm in doubt. I'm stuck in the limbo of good and evil. Sleep and wakefulness. Illusion and reality. Right and wrong.

I'm a stranger to the world. I don't know the strength to stand or the courage to jump. Life is like a wheel. Either you turn with it or you break away. Anyone in my place would be like me. The distance from death is a push on the toe. I passed and left. One of those who seek controversy. I fell from the beginning. Gravity was pulling down or repulsion was pushing up. I don't know what the story was.

This world is neither good nor bad. Neither right nor wrong. Neither black nor white. It is gray. The color of reality. The reality that says life is a game.

Your dreams pull forward. Your memories pull back. What is left of you. Neither of yourself nor of your soul.

There is no way from the cursed earth to the pristine sky.

I jump.

Oh, father. Where did the police find my house?

The sound of the siren presses on my soul. There is no time left. I have to finish.

Immediately after the first police car, the ambulance and fire department arrived. People were filming downstairs. They were waiting to see when I would die.

The sound of the siren was tearing at my flesh. I was more carefree. Even where I was alive wasn’t worth it. I just wanted to finish. When I looked behind me, a man in a suit was standing. He was staring at me. He was looking back and forth.

Bahman: Order.

Pasavideh: Hello Bahman, how are you?

Bahman: I don’t feel like answering. What difference does it make to you whether I’m good or bad?

Pasavideh: I’m Pasavideh. I’m a social worker. I’ve come to help you.

Bahman: You can’t help. You’re probably one of Yalda’s father’s people. It’s not clear where you came from.

Pasavideh: Bahman, I read your file.

Bahman: No, don’t come forward. If you come, I will throw myself down.

My hands and feet are shaking. I don't have the peace I once had.

Afterword: Bahman, look. I have nothing to do with you. Let me talk. If I don't justify myself, throw yourself down.

Bahman: Go, Dad. You are all Yalda's father's people. As soon as I come down, you will send me back under the supervision of that bastard.

Pasavideh: Look, I don't know if the person who filed your case was Yalda's father or not. But I get paid and work from the government. Not from Yalda's father or anyone else.

Bahman: That means Yalda's father didn't send you.

Pasavideh: Who is Yalda, Bahman.

Bahman: Yalda is my ex-fiancée.

Pasavideh: Well, now Yalda or anyone else. This is not the right way. Killing yourself or others.

Bahman: Yalda's father had made me miserable. He wouldn't give me his daughter, whom I loved. I didn't let there be a wall between us either.

Pasavideh: At what cost, friend? The price of losing Yalda's favor. Or having a record. You can't do anything else. Meanwhile, Yalda Khanum is very upset that you killed her father. She called the police to come and get you.

Bahman: No, no, no. It's impossible for Yalda to do that. Yalda told me she hated her father.

Pasavideh: Yes, I talked to her. She hated her father. But not to the point of killing her father.

Bahman: No, I don't believe it. You want me to come down. Then handcuff her. Put me in jail so I can drink cool water.

Pasavideh: Mr. Bahman, I'm here to help. No harm. If you don't believe me, look at Yalda Khanum from the edge. She's standing down and complaining.

As she was talking, I was hit in the body. I fell to the ground. I didn't remember anything after that.

Later, I regained consciousness in the hospital. I heard from the nurses that a firefighter had saved my life. What a rescue. I want to comfort myself. But something happens every time.

I'm sick of this life. I spit on this life.

They kept me in the hospital for almost two days. Then they took me away in handcuffs and threw me in a place where I didn't belong. Prison.

At least Yalda's father isn't here. No one bothers me. It's just a shame I can't go to the roof.

I asked the case officer about the verdict. He said your case has been sent for investigation.

Bahman: What is investigation?

Officer: You have to see when the judge will start the case. They call this time investigation.

I said okay. That was the end of the conversation. Then he handed me over to the prison guard and left.

They put me in solitary confinement for a few days to see if I was healthy. I didn't say anything because I was taking Yalda's father's pills.

Then they put me in solitary confinement for a few days to see if I was healthy. Everything was intentional.

I got lucky. If they had found out I had a history of mental illness, they would have sent me straight to a mental institution. I would have to deal with crazy people. New pills and torture awaited me.

The prison was dark. The room was cold and damp. A strange smell came from the walls. It was like the smell of the prison cook's bad beans. No spices.

Then they took me to a room in solitary confinement to get a confession. How I killed Yalda's father.

It went to the counselor again. Mr. Pasavideh came to confirm my mental health. Then they referred me to a psychologist. To see if I was sane.

They didn't catch anything. They didn't smell anything. I explained everything that was going on. I was supposed to stay in the general ward until the verdict came.

The prison smelled of death. The same old thing I said. I was sick of this life.

Bad smell. Bad color. More tasteless. Uglier. More unsightly. More meaningless than before.

Stink. Stink. Stink. Only the stench comes from prison.

Blacker. Blacker. Blacker. Tightness and pressure from everything. The snake of misery crawling into hearts. Coiling around the hearts of prisoners.

Shortness of breath. Shortness of breath. Breathlessness. Choking. Now and then. Now and then. Now and then. Only death is the cure for my condition.

The darkness continued until the soldier threw me into a four-bed room. The general section. He said with a smile, have fun. He left.

I counted the number with the banknote in my pocket. The soldier threw it somewhere more convenient. I counted the number of cells with the same banknote. I wanted to find out who was who.

The first bed belonged to an inmate. They called him Sadri. He had glasses like glasses. Maybe they had taken them for no reason like me. You couldn't tell from his appearance.

The second bed was for Anoushirvan. They called him Anoush. He had a large build. You didn't dare to go more than two meters away. A bushy black mustache. No white streaks.

The fourth bed was for me. Wait, where is the third?

Look there. This one really bothers me. I don't know what he's doing. They called him a scoundrel. He was a copy of Yalda's father. They said he had run up debts. The creditors had thrown him in jail. He worked outside the theater. But I know it's a lie. He's the same Yalda's father who survived.

But the murder has been confirmed.

No, dad's not dead. This is Yalda's father. He's come to make you feel comfortable.

How is that possible? It doesn't make sense.

Believe me, it's him.

Oh, that damn annoying voice. Get out of my head.

Any kind of comfort.

He won't leave you here either. He's come to call you crazy. He'll get on your nerves. They'll send you to a mental institution. They'll keep you there.

Yeah, you're right.

He probably came with a plan.

Yes, Dad.

I'll do it.

Let time pass. I'll do this one too when the time comes. Yalda's father shouldn't be on the floor.

I grabbed my head and pressed it against the wall. Sadri and Anush were looking back and forth. Tarkashvand wasn't feeling himself. He was leaning on the bed, thinking.

I saw that things were getting tense. I faked a hello. I went and sat in the corner of the cell.

They greeted me as usual in the movies. The conversation began with Sadri.

Sadri: How are you, buddy? Are you okay? They didn't bother you.

Bahman: No, what's the matter, Dad.

Sadri: What's your name?

Bahman: I'm Bahman.

Sadri: I'm lucky. I'm Sadri. What crime are you being arrested for, buddy?

Bahman: Nothing. I killed my fiancée's father.

Sadri: Regret.

Bahman: Not at all. It was preventing me from reaching Yalda.

Sadri: Oh, good luck, friend. So don't be nervous.

Bahman: No, no, I'm perfectly healthy. There's nothing wrong with me.

He was being very friendly. He was on my nerves. I didn't know what to do. Despite knowing him, he didn't bring it up to me.

Bahman: What is this gentleman doing here?

Sadri: Who. You mean Anoush. Anoush is not feeling well. If you listen to me, don't go near him too much. If you step on his brain, you'll get hurt. They say he accidentally killed someone. He ran away. The police chased him. It's been like this since he stepped into the cell. After that, he didn't talk to anyone except me. I forced him to tell me. Otherwise, he wouldn't have told me either.

Bahman: No, I'm not saying that. I'm saying this one.

Sadri: Who. You mean Turkashvand.

Bahman: Yes. The one who's lying on his bed.

Sadri: Nothing, dad. He doesn't talk to me. But at first he said he owed a lot of money and was thrown in prison. He has a small child. His wife is a maid. His job was in the art theater.

Bahman: Oh, okay. Then another question. Are you sure that's his name and his customs. Or he pretended to be a Turkashvnd.

Sadri: No, Dad, it's not like that. This servant of God should not be talking like this. They call him by that name in prison.

Bahman: Oh, okay, thank you.

Sadri: God forbid I talk to you. If a sound comes through the wall, it won't come from these two.

Bahman: Uhm.

Meanwhile, the soldier on duty came. He called loudly for lunch.

Prisoners, line up. Get in line and eat lunch. Hurry up, dear sir.

They forcibly threw us out. This can't happen. I have to think seriously about killing this Turkashvand.