My story isn’t a fairy tale.
Not quite seems to be normal either.

Yes, a story.

My life is a story.

I always believed — or wanted to believe — it deserves to be one.

You know? I’m fond of stories, strong words, emotions, and drama.

And lots of drama.

I wanted my story to have these fascinating ends, mind-blowing twists, and mostly

“inspirational” acts.

I mean, heroes never die, you know?
And I wanted to be alive in people’s heads.
And I think nothing beats the heroes of stories in that.

But lately, I’m starting to see that...
I’m no hero.
Nor could my life be a story worth to be told.

Am I... just... someone?

So I’m here,

borrowing a language that isn’t mine,
using another name,
in a world that isn’t real—
all just to write a story.

A story about me.
A story about reality, maybe to be read...

By
You.