Prologue
Life is like a dream. No matter what we pass by, the ever changing scenery, the shifting of leaves, the mysterious glowing of tiny beings, the ever changing colors of the sky, night and day, day and night…We don’t really see anything. We just pass by, too focused on ourselves, always running. We run, and run, and run. We run. That is all we do. Our whole lives, we run without knowing from what.
But, at one point, we will grow tired. Our breaths will come harder and harder, our chests will constrict with each heave, our legs will strain with each leap, sweat will trickle down our skin, the hair we once habitually groomed and took care of without much notice, become messy and tangled in the wind. And finally…our legs give way. Our bodies fall to the ground, not at all relieved. Looking up at the glowing full moon, and the wide expanse of dark water below it, all the feelings unnoticed come back. Suddenly the feel of the wood of the bridge feels rough under soft fingers, harsh for the exhausted body, the air cold, and sharp.
Yet, it is still not time.
What we were running from all our lives still hasn’t caught up. It’s still getting there.
There is no warning.
Before we notice it, our heads are turning, eyes wider than ever before. Reality has finally clashed with us, piercing us right in the chest. With a gasping breath, our fingers curl around its sharp blade, sharper than the wind.
The wind was nothing.
Warm blood trickles down in droplets and unto the wooden board of the bridge. There is no running away anymore. Our eyes cannot escape reality anymore, trapped into staring eye-to-eye.
Life is a dream. We are always running from reality, afraid of waking up. If we stay in one moment too long, it will reach us. We will see the truth, reality. And then, we will die.
This is how I lived, and how I died.
Reality caught up, and under that glowing, unchanging, unfeeling moon, I gave my last breath. Was this the end?
No.
This was reality. This was my story. Would you care to hear it?
