I got lost. I let go of my mom’s hand in the crowd. The small version of me was drawn away by a phoenix in the sky. I chased it for a long time, ran far, not knowing how long or how far I had gone—until I was completely exhausted. I was once so close to it, close enough to feel like I was about to be burned alive. And then I fell. Hard.

In fact, I got badly burned. I really thought that was it—that this was the end. That I had done all I could.

But I was brought back to life. I don’t know why. All of a sudden, it felt like the whole world started to embrace me. I don’t know what happened. When I came to, I realized—I no longer knew where I was.

I wanted to go back, but the road home was gone. I suddenly had no idea what to do. Where am I supposed to go? Which direction leads home? I felt like I didn’t know anything anymore.

I always complain that my partner is so clueless, asking me everything. He said, “Maybe it’s because you have too many clues.” And I wonder—how many clues do I have? I don’t know. It feels like everything is laid out clearly in front of me, but I can’t seem to connect any of it.

What am I doing? Why am I here? Who am I? Where am I going? And why am I going there? What is there? Is there really a reason I have to walk toward it?

Even now, I don’t know what that reason is—but maybe I’ll just go and see?

What do you think?