"I had always asked myself, if one day I could touch the sky, embrace the stars, and become one with space and time. But as all things begin, they must end. And I was none other than a human."
A boy lay on the grass, his back pressed to the earth, his eyes lost in the endless blue. The clouds drifted slowly, careless and free. A flock of birds passed above, their wings carrying them further than he could ever dream.
Birds are free, he thought. Free as none other is. Yet even freedom is hunted. Even birds are prey. So if I were to redeem this freedom my heart begs for… would I not still be prey?
His lips moved before his mind could stop them."So, if you exist… tell me. What is my purpose?"
The words slipped into the open air, fragile and weightless, like they were meant for no one at all.
With a quiet breath, he rose to his feet. The horizon stretched endlessly before him, but it only looked vast and lonely. His town was small, yet usually alive with voices, laughter, arguments, the sound of doors and engines. But today, silence held it all in its grip.
Step by step, he walked past the houses, past the lives that weren't his, until finally he stood before the one he could not escape. His home.
He pushed the door open. The world outside faded, but the world inside wasn't much different. The television hummed faintly in the living room, someone laughed from behind a screen, but no voice turned to greet him. No eyes noticed him.
He slipped off his shoes quietly, the sound barely touching the air, and climbed the stairs as if he were a stranger in his own house. His bedroom door closed behind him with a soft click—his only certainty.
The boy let himself fall onto his bed. The mattress caught him without complaint. Sleep came faster than thought.
…
When he woke again, it was midnight. The silence had grown heavier, pressing against his walls. His room was a shadow, lit only by the faint glow of the moon. Slowly, he sat up, his breath shallow in the stillness.
His eyes found the mirror across the room. He stood, bare feet dragging against the cold floor, and faced himself.
The reflection stared back—just a boy. Ordinary, forgettable. Yet behind those tired eyes, something hollower than emptiness lived.
He raised a hand to the glass, as if searching for someone on the other side. But all he touched was his own skin.
"Who are you supposed to be?" he whispered, but the boy in the mirror gave no answer.