Prologue – Dreams and loneliness

Dreams transcend life by being unique, common or hereditary: they forge our destiny. They overturn your existence and influence others; they shape reality, your actions and way of being. Some are fleeting and others eternal, only wills keep them firm.

What do I need to consider myself human? Why don't I understand them?

The universe is calm and merciless; sometimes it is a maddening silence or a scandal; by comparison, each individual's problems were insignificant.

Space and time were so infinite that the changes were negligible.

Part of my life was spent analyzing humans, and discovering that I hated them.

The landscapes, noises and actions were monotonous; for my perception, I lived an endless number of years.

I resided in an era of peace where war was almost non-existent, but he preserved his defects.

Most of them thought that life was fun, but they would never accept their methods: lying, ignoring, cheating, breaking up with their partner, drinking alcohol and smoking, laughing at the misfortunes of others…

I hated the unacceptable, whether it was human, alien, my parents, friends or even God.

I was trapped in these routine thoughts that increased over time.

For me they were a single entity: minds with minimal differences, poorly programmed robots.

I forgave subtle lies that were not intended to hurt, because you want to surprise or joke; but cheating to stab did not tolerate it.

My perception became sensitive, I hated them all. Even if I broke these imperceptible bars, it was already normal.

Always alone, since I left high school, or even long before I realized it; he didn't fit in with anyone, and without a longed-for future.

Even when I found my dream and tried to fulfill it with all my soul, my effort and dream turned against me: I was so broken that my dilemmas would not change.

I had no solution, I isolated myself with video games and consuming fictional stories.

Any method served to dehumanize me, even the meaning of the words was altered from what a human was familiar with.

I used to have curtains closed, the light became harmful.

I liked order and cleanliness; My room connected to the yard and, when I went out at night, the moon was the center of attention.

I lived in a ghostly town that conveyed loneliness, and the moonlight increased it.

I took out the trash on short shady walks in absolute silence; when I returned, I looked up at the blue sky with those stealthy clouds: even during the day, loneliness devoured me.

I felt trapped, as if the sky and the clouds were lies: it was like looking at the ceiling.

Some considered me a parasite for not working, but I was proud of my life.

"How could someone useless like you who has nothing be proud?" said those who were incapable of fulfilling my dream.

Some made fun of uneducated people; Is that respectable?

Humans were flawed, they did not usually have judgment, empathy or conscience.

They prejudged without putting in any effort, it was like writing a novel and having your work belittled just because they didn't like the protagonist or it didn't have the imagined outcome.

For example: even if you don't gather information about alcohol, by observing a drinker, it would be wise to avoid it; Instead, they imitated those close to them and developed problems.

What was a problem for me was a minor issue for someone else.

No one decides for another what is right or wrong; Depending on the objective of each individual, the principles of it would be different. Discussing ideals or getting angry for no reason was wrong, but doing things blindly was worse.

If your dream is to drink the best alcohol risking your life, I will not be the one to stop you.

I felt that I was sincere and I worked hard to achieve my goals.

For some I was still young; I objected, because the importance I gave to life was different. Maybe my parents noticed, that's why they didn't force me to do what I hated.

Even when my effort was real and greater than that of others, many others only dedicated themselves to belittling the dream of others; For me they were unacceptable.

My days of solitude passed knowing that my end could come. Even if I perished, I felt fulfilled; very possible I would die before my parents. I didn't consider myself negative, but realistic.

I felt like the others were unhatched eggs: they didn't express themselves.

Being born was a curse, there were positive things, but painted over the pain.

Who doesn't want to rest forever? Imagine not having existed, no one would have to feel, live or die: like a white and infinite space that extends on the horizon.

Is wanting to live an eternity out of fear correct? They want to live so as not to suffer and they discriminate against those who think differently.

Is dying equivalent to reliving nonexistence?

The damned longed for immortality, for those who cling to something for the rest of their days.

If reincarnation exists, I would like not to do it. If due to my bad fortune I did it, my resentment would not disappear.

I didn't believe in God, but I prayed with my soul to rest for an eternity.

If I were god, I would surely have wanted to extinguish humanity.

Time passed without brakes, I was increasingly exhausted. The loneliness was so great that any other discomfort was insignificant. I considered it a miracle that, with my body and soul at their limit, I could move.

I spent more and more time lying down, and that's how I reached the age of 22.