Chapter 0

It took a long time before I could finally take up the pen.

What was I so afraid of? Though I agonized for so long before sitting at the desk and taking up the pen, now that I have actually begun to write, the question crosses my mind.

Did I not wish to show this to others? Even as I write the words, a laugh escapes me. No. I always wanted to boast of my sole sanctuary. I wanted to proclaim it to the entire world.

Was I afraid, then, of revealing myself to the world? Seeing the corners of my mouth harden, I suppose that was it. I feared myself. And I feared the world that would fear me.

Ever since I resolved to leave a record, I found myself constantly dwelling on what impact this account might exert upon the world if it were ever to leave my hands in the distant future. That, perhaps, was also why I could not readily bring myself to take up the pen.

Yet now, it is fine. My heart and mind are both unburdened. Once my resolution solidified, everything became simple.

Last night, I asked myself whether the chronicle of my life was truly grand enough to influence this vast world. A dry laugh burst from me. I threw my head back and laughed until my stomach ached.

My life was never so magnificent. I lived always in the moment and moved only in pursuit of rest. I merely existed along the flow of passing time.

Even if, by some rare chance, this record should leave my hands and somehow affect the world of the present or future, it will be fine; for as always, the world will never find me. I have chosen to think of it that way.

So now it is time to write. Time to commit it all to paper before my memories are swept away by the flowing years and lost forever.

This record is the trajectory and trace of my existence, a musty old tale and a journal of this very moment.

Yet at its heart will be love.

For this is a record written to engrave into the world that existence who has been my earth and my sky without pause, from an old, profoundly ancient first love to this very moment.