Chapter 1 – Not Until That Day

  I don’t remember exactly when I became this person.

  I still remember big chunks of my childhood—vivid, stubborn memories that haven’t faded. Back then, I was brave. I used to act before thinking things through. Every day was a new adventure, even with my parents fighting and us constantly moving from house to house.

  The world felt massive back then. Every day, I tried to explore more of it.

  But somewhere along the way… I forgot.

  I don't know what moment changed me. I don’t know when I lost the parts of myself I now dream of having back.

  When did I become someone I don’t even like?

  Why do I always feel like a ghost?

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  What scares me the most—despite having so many fears—is the idea of staying like this forever.

  I don’t have the energy to try.

  I don’t even know where I’d begin.

  I’m not searching for happiness. I’m searching for life—the kind I can actually feel, in both its sweetness and bitterness.

  But even that… I forgot how it feels.

  Maybe when the people I loved left—those who were such a big part of my life—they took parts of my soul with them.

  Bit by bit, until all I had left was whatever keeps me breathing, keeps me conscious, keeps me barely holding on.

  About five years ago, maybe more, I decided to leave and try something different.

  I traveled to be closer to someone I wanted to spend more time with.

  I wanted to escape a house that was nothing but noise—no peace, no privacy.

  I had this picture in my mind of how it would be.

  Nothing too perfect—I expected it to be hard.

  But I was okay with struggling if it meant being happy at the same time.

  I didn’t mind changing my lazy, careless lifestyle for something more disciplined.

  I didn’t mind living on the ninth floor with no elevator in the middle of summer, sweating it out with no fans.

  I kept telling myself, I’ve grown up. This is normal.

  I endured everything that came my way without complaining.

  And when it got too much, I fixed it. I moved to a better place and kept going.

  I couldn’t really connect with people at work at first.

  But over time, things started to fall into place.

  I met people who appreciated me—and I appreciated them back.

  Even when I felt like I was breaking in one place, I was healing in another.

  And somehow, that was enough. I had people beside me—people I loved, and who loved me back.

  I was starting to believe that was enough.

  That this quiet survival was all life had left to offer me.

  I didn’t know there was more.

  Not yet.

  Not until that day.