Love — a word I had heard people say at least a hundred, if not a thousand, times. To me, it was once a foreign concept, something that felt unreal. I always contemplated its meaning. Is it just lust and physical attraction toward another person, or does it go beyond that, into some astral realm where souls embrace and feel each other? To me, it all sounded like something out of fantasy novels — sweet words people used to trick each other, to gain benefits and satisfy material and carnal desires. That was my train of thought… until I met her.
Back when I was 22 years old, I lived life as though it were all an illusion. I always thought that life itself was one big lie. If the ultimate goal is to die, then what is the meaning of life? The younger me would be greatly disappointed. That kid aspired to be a hero, to achieve great things. He thought that as long as he put his mind to something, he could achieve it — and he did have the potential. I wasted it. He was full of life, and I am as dead as a salted fish. Hahaha. I guess if I met my past self, I would be so ashamed that I wasted his potential, his dreams, and everything he hoped for. But to me, it was okay, because from my point of view, nothing was worth it. Whether you make big waves in the ocean or live like still water, it would all be equal in the face of inevitable death. So why try that hard?
My name is Brown, and this is my story — the story of how my defeated personality cost me dearly. It cost me time, and it cost me the love of my life. Some events in my story are true, some are false. It is truth mixed with fiction, and I leave it to you, clever readers, to detect which events are real.
My story isn't meant for reading alone. It is also a way for me to release my frustrations from back then, and perhaps a way to help you strive for what — and who — you love with all your strength. Don't make the same mistakes I made. And lastly, I hope you enjoy reading my story.