Excerpt:
Chapter 1 – Thoughts That Corrode
“If I am nobody, you will find no one.”
As children, we long to grow up, to become irresponsible adults, to “indulge” in the pleasures denied to us in our youth. As children, we are blind to the burdens of adulthood; yet adulthood often reveals itself as a tragedy so divine it borders on comedy. As we mature, our eyes begin to perceive the decline of an unequal society that forces people to act in ways that are, for the most part, cruel. Hunger, labor exploitation, heartbreak, betrayal… these are but a few of the countless factors we ignore in childhood and endure in adulthood.
My mind wanders, searching for the precise moment when childhood innocence is shattered by social reality. Each person experiences the death of their innocence differently; in some cases, that experience can be depicted in the most cruel and unimaginable ways conceivable to any “sane” human. Daily life presents a 99.99% chance that this loss of innocence will be either merciless or merciful.
I recall, from the deepest recesses of memory, an innocent child playing with scaled dinosaur figures. That child surrendered entirely to his imagination, dreaming of discovering new specimens of those long-extinct creatures. The innocence of his imagination conjured animals of every shape, size, and color; he gave names to these creations so strange that only his young, developing mind could comprehend them.
“Mom! I want to be a paleontologist!” the boy shouted with excitement. “Son, I’m afraid that career isn’t available in our country,” his mother replied gently.
The sadness in the child’s face was unmistakable; his muscles contorted in expressions they had never known and longed to use in joyous ways, yet social reality had other plans for them. That day, those muscles learned a new sentiment: disappointment.
Disappointment is an almost innate companion of adulthood; sometimes it appears so routinely that we forget it should not feel natural in a sane society. The problem arises when one experiences this feeling in nearly every daily context. Disappointment becomes routine in work, study, family, friendships, love… so habitual that it transforms into custom. Can one imagine how many disappointments a person must endure for this feeling to become habitual?
The little child will realize that this new expression will become part of his daily image, part of a face he will attempt to mask for social acceptance, battling his inner demons to prevent them from breaking free. One could say that the child’s first dream was demolished, like a building still under construction collapsing upon its fragile foundation.
Yet, the angelic voice of his mother, as if by magic, pierced his mind, still clouded by the disappointment that had overwhelmed his euphoric state. That heavenly melody forged new neural connections, softening the tidal wave of tears that threatened to spill upon his wounded face.
My reverie vanishes as if by an unexpected trick. My eyes attempt to focus on my surroundings, seeing only blurred shadows that slowly resolve into human figures. My surprise intensified when I realized I was lying on public transport, staring at nothing, like a dog glimpsing a ghostly apparition. My lost gaze lingered on cold tears, mirrored in raindrops falling over a ruthless city that bathes people’s sorrows with its own tears, easing their grief, brief and often mundane.
Watching those around me has become my favorite pastime. I observe them living, enjoying fleeting lives, exploring pleasures from the most innocent to the most depraved thoughts their minds can conjure. Each perceives life through the lens of their upbringing and intellect, shaped by their experiences. And this makes me wonder: do others think what I think? Did anyone think these thoughts long ago?
I step off the creaking vehicle, barely able to carry on with its worn parts, abused by a society that never rests in its long but irrelevant existence. How many people have boarded this vehicle? How many families has it carried? Did she take this same ride? What experiences has its frame endured?
“Excuse me, young man,” said a lady, breaking the flood of questions swirling in my mind. “Ma’am?” I replied, surprised, my voice matching my astonished expression…
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