I have lived my life to the fullest, and I don't regret it. In fact, I'm proud of my choices.
Right now, I'm living a life I could've never imagined.
No, no, no! You're getting me wrong. The life I'm currently living and the one I imagined are totally different. You don't understand? Well, let me tell you about my past.
From a young age, I was very observant and curious. Thanks to that, I learned many things that most kids normally don't.
Of course, I'm not talking about anything related to that, but rather philosophy, fiction, and space. Yeah, I know it sounds like I'm a nerd—and technically, you could call me one—but I'd prefer if you didn't.
So, where was I? Ah, yes. I loved thinking about what human life really is, what its purpose might be, and what outer space truly holds. How was it created? Will it ever end or restart? And what is the limit of imagination?
I'm sure all of these topics are quite popular and have countless theories surrounding them. But we're not here to debate them—since this is my backstory, I'd prefer to keep distractions to a minimum.
Back to the main topic. I studied hard until I graduated from university, but in the end, I couldn't get a job—or rather, there was no chance that I, an ordinary human, could get one. I'm sure you're confused right now, but don't worry, I'll explain.
The current year is 2067. Human civilization has grown by leaps and bounds. We're now at the level of a Type 0.87 civilization and are expected to reach Type 1 within a century. Of course, that's only the tip of the iceberg.
Humanity has achieved incredible advancements in robotics and artificial intelligence. We hardly work anymore—not because we're lazy, but because AI and robotics have made life so easy that we simply don't prefer to do anything "unnecessary."
After getting a high-paying job, I enjoyed my life and worked hard at the same time. But one day, everything changed—my parents died in a car crash. I was devastated. My life lost its purpose and my motivation to achieve greater heights vanished.
Later, I lost my job too. But I didn't do anything about it—or rather, I couldn't. I stayed at home, sold my land, and lived off the money for fifteen years, until I could no longer afford the house I was renting.
And yes, that concludes my life. I know it isn't anything amazing. This is probably the thousandth time I've told this story. I don't even know why I keep repeating it—maybe it's because I'm an overthinker, or maybe I'm just mentally ill. Either way, it's useless to dwell on it.
Tomorrow, I'll have to leave this home. "Home," huh… I wonder what a home really is. In my opinion, it's not a place that makes a home, but the people who live in it. So in a way, what I'm in right now isn't a home—it's just a shelter.
Is there any place I could truly call home? I thought for a moment, and one place came to mind. It was the old village where my parents lived after their marriage, and where I was born. Before the accident, they had planned to return there.
Maybe… I should go there, just once.
It was the time when my life completely changed.