Prologue?

1

At some point life began. You're not quite sure whether it was a big hazy dream before it all started, or if the dream is now, because the happiness you feel is rather surreal in a world where bringing others down is the way to feel better. 2

At some point, you began to see. The colours weren't just colours of red, and yellow, and green. They were shades of tomato and fire, banana and pastel, meadow and neon. And everything had colour. The colour was so bright, it burnt your eyes as each morning you opened the two most important organs and saw them bringing a smile to your face.3

At some point, you began to hear. Whispers that never seemed real, voices that called to you from places far away, and the appreciation for small noises you heard every day. And those you didn't. Like the hum of a gentle computer screen, or the patter of his heart as it raced against his brain, trying to compute strange chemical imbalances.4

At some point, you began to talk. No longer were words coming out with no meaning, but they transformed. They became art, each individual one, crafted with an excellence only the elite could master, with personality flowing, as the chemicals reacted with thoughts, and the two fused together to find those that brought release.5

At some point, you began to feel. The softness of his lips against yours, or the fact his skin was so smooth. You realised that there was so many textures in a world that managed to build the tallest sky-scrapers, but refused to eliminate mental walls in attitude, prejudice and pride. Each one had a texture, each physical and mental thought had a physical or mental property you could touch, incomprehensibly, it was yours, in a world only, only made for you.6

And at some point, you began to taste. Food of all calibre, shapes of all styles and flavours of such cultures. Taste the sweet smell of happiness, in an air polluted with enough carbon to slowly kill you. In a world where from the minute you were born you are dying, there were such tastes, such things to muddle your taste buds with, such knowledge to feed to your brain, and so many people to add to the never ending amount of love you could emanate, like a glow worm, for its entire life. 7

But in such a vague usage of the word, is this happiness you feel? Or is it a feeling you press onto a reverse roller coaster slowly taking you back to all that hurt, and anger you thought you'd gotten away from? Are things even worse then they ever were, because you're deluding yourself, into thinking you're happy, so you don't have to sort out the problems? 8

Maybe wall-papering over the cracks can work, but how can you be sure that the dream you're having such fun living, isn't a nightmare in which you're losing the fight against dying? Nobody shares what you know, nobody shares what you feel, or at least you have found no one. In all the knowledge you know is correct, there is a contradicting belief that all is wrong. 9

Happiness? Perhaps it was never this simple after all. Perhaps the simple things, were the most complicated of all, because they were so simple, and thus had no difficulty associated with them. So, if you find the simple task's hard, how will you ever be happy, as the simple + the hard times equals a recipe for success?10

Or is there even such a thing, lest it be an idea you have concocted in a world where an idea, is the only float keeping you alive in a sea of such woe?11

Maybe life never did actually begin. Perhaps this is the prologue into a world were life will start, and be incomprehensibly beautiful. This is the race, where the finish is much more then a medal and a bouquet of flowers. The prize would be the ultimate deal between you and an entity that could save the thing you haven't even started if you just asked for help, and gave into the demand of both your heart and brain.12

Alive; Are you really?13