Chapter I

Illusions.

The smart man said that it is well-advised to begin a story at the start. The wise man said that it isn't foolish to begin a story at the end.

However, I am neither smart, nor am I wise (and between the two lies a great difference), so I will set off on my journey; it is a journey because I don't know where I am going, and I don't know what impediments are scattered on the path, what clouds shield the sun, what rain hampers the trek, I do not know them. So I will set off on my journey, from the middle.

The middle, as I would like to imagine, is not always the easiest part, neither is it the toughest, nor is it in between. In fact, I am only imagining the middle, for it has not yet begun. I do not know when it will begin, nor do I know when it will begin to end, but I do know that it will begin someday. I am not exactly looking forward to that day. But I am not looking forward to remain where I am.

Indeed, I am in a very sticky situation, and I don't even know where the right path is. It is a series of roads that loom before me, I can see each one of them so clearly, but when I look at all of them, I see a big mess. Some roads are snowed in, some roads are clear, some roads are uneven, some have a gentle slope. But all the roads are somehow tangled up, some lead into another, and those lead to a dead end. It is all very confusing, a very sticky situation. Such is the path of life.

There is a barrier in front of me. I have to pass it to walk onto the first road. I have already crossed a few roads, they are behind me now. But the memories of them are vivid in my memory, they are there, imprinted, just like great people leave their footsteps behind after they move on. Except this is vague. The memories are there, but I can't seem to draw them out. It's like a disfunctional well.

Let me tell you where I am. There is a barrier in front of me. Let me tell you what the barrier is. I don't know how it got there. But I can guess. I'm not so sure of what it is, either. But let me tell you what I think it is. It is an illusion. I swear I can see through it sometimes. I swear, but other times, it just blocks everything out. It makes insignificant things seem important. Things like what I should be doing and where I should be going. When I do those things, this illusion blocks out what really matters.

I do not know how to get past this barrier. This is my failure.

I made a choice. I used to have so many things and I let go of them, disregarding their true worth. I was too blind to see. I was blinded by illusions, different from these. And I made a choice. I would hold on to what mattered.

At the stage I am at, there is a barrier in front of me. It is no spectacle, it is a shameful thing. You see, there is something. And I want to hold on to it.

I want to hold on to it.

This illusion makes everything so slippery. It's like, I can't remember how I should be feeling, I can't remember what emotions should be drifting through me. I mean, I know what I should be feeling. But I don't know why, or how, but it's gone. I mean, it isn't gone, it's there. But I can't feel it. I mean, I can, but not as much as I should, not as often as I should, as I did.

You see, I am a man, and disaster struck when I was a boy.

I am breaking down this barrier. It will make everything much better. I will take the first road, I will take the second road. But first, I have to break down this barrier, this monstrous illusion.

For you see, disaster struck when I was a boy.

And I miss me.