Preface: Birth
Death. Like a moth, encased around barriers and confined to the abode of his prey, so to was I, in my childhood. The moth, glued to the adhesive domain of the host cannot yield itself from its grasp, so too was I, refusing to acquiesce myself to my own captors, and brought up by them to lead a dual persona. Just as the prey toys with its meal before devouring it whole, so too was I, played like a fool into their own grasp as they sculpted me into their own desire of perfection. A desire I feared would be the death of myself.
Death. I was safeguarded by the very people I believed who were my loved ones; whom I thought were deep, loving and caring individuals, turned out no different than that of the moth’s predator. Whom I thought in my eyes were great people, capable of accomplishing great pursuits in life, were the very people who relentlessly obscured my vision of the outside and confined me to the prison of my own solitary refuge and shielded me from the horrors they have done. They, whose crimes were left unpunished and looked over, were the very people whom I was forced by nature to accept as my guardians to carry on after them.
Death. As the moth wriggles free from the shackles of his oppressor, so too did I pick the heavy bracelet on my hand to relieve me of my burdens and my foolishness for have been so naïve. I could have done what they intended was best for me, a bloodthirsty, conniving, killing machine, only to be used for warfare and conquer. A chisel that could etch away the debris or the divine winds my homeland had so easily fell for. If I had entered that field, only to realize that the chisel’s edge had been broken in the process, I could only be replaced by another to cover my ground like the insignificant person they think I am.
Hope. However, once I had realized the key to my brace was in my hands, I fumbled with it deftly as to ensure my release from the horrid prison. The moth too, uses his mind to its extent and breaks free from the shackles! And the oppressor, realizing this quickly, rushes forth to stop its meal from escaping from its grasp. The moth, however, uses his mind to its extent and breaks away from the web of his oppressor, and lifts his spirit high to release himself from the bonds and fly away to a haven, far away from the sight of becoming captured once more. I inserted the key into my brace, and lo! I had released myself from my tight bonds and broke free at last! No such greater ecstasy I had felt before this event.
In my century, the world had shifted to an important turning point in history. No longer would I be the boy that I was once and no sooner would I turn into the wise octogenarian I will once become. I will have evolved into the man I was predestined to become by fate itself. In the year I was born, Eighteen Thirty-Eight, the world outside of me was ever changing for the immediate discovery that would lie before them in the year Eighteen Fifty-Three. That year had become the turning point in the history of the world on both parties and mine. My year, Eighteen Seventy-Four, would become the day that the prey, so keening on revenge, would encase me once more to it’s confines and leech from me the very essence of my existence. My life as a babe, a child, an adolescent, and finally a man not yet grasped elderly, has withstood the test of time, as an ordeal as painful as my body devoured inside out.
