I was but young boy. Even at such a tender age, I bore the weight of a heavy soul, as a man I had many talents, one being more a cruse then a blessing. I experienced the world in ways that drove others to madness including my father who in his madness was preparing to burn our home and me along with it. As I lay in our living room floor surrounded by the tender that will soon turn our home into ash. Feeling true fear at that age made the hour long stand off feel like a eternity. I knew my death was near my body was on the verge of death dieing from the fear. When all hope was lost and I accepted my end, a Is warmth blanketed me and i was at peace my body know longer shivered in fear.I had the courage to uncover my face from the blanket i lay beneath and when i opened my eyes in the dark room i saw a figure of ligth of many colors. The figure Appeared as the stars condensed in human form. I spoke of the angel from that day. labeled as a madman I never spoken of my experiences. For forty years, I wandered through a labyrinth of thought, lost in a life dictated by society’s hollow maxims: get a job, get a house, get a wife. It’s the mantra that echoes through the ages.

I now understand the root of my perpetual solitude, why I’ve always felt like an outcast, my voice a mere whisper against the roar of collective ignorance. My interactions were nothing more than a performance, the skill of an actor hiding behind a mask, suppressing my true self to fit a mold. I chased after the illusory riches promised by society, with hollow promises of happiness and wealth. The lies that were meant to fulfill me turned out to be nothing more than phantoms...