Iter-nal

First Iteration: βίος

Wake for your sake,

The world is everaltering-

One step after another

But never is it faltering.

The cost of missing a step

Is beyond innumerous,

Losing infinite moments

In a second too treacherous.

Make each step count,

Reach out for your fate.

Feel your destiny sprout inside you

Before it is too late.

                                                                      —----------—

The break of dawn broke him away from sleep.

Masato rubbed his eyes lazily, a lonely yawn rising along his throat. As he opened his reddened eyes, he was greeted by the low hanging lamp from his ceiling. The room was dimly lit. It reflected his mood. An empty mindspace filled with the thronging silence. This very silence had moulded him, taught him its ways. Made him learn to listen rather than speak, because spoken words mean nothing with no one to hear. 'Voice is for the company while thoughts are for solitude'- with that being his guiding principle, Masato woke up today as he does everyday. The tatami mat below his futon was threatening to bend inwards and break at some point due to too much pressure, but somehow it never did. Each day, he played a game of chance with himself, and each day luck favoured him. Yet another hollow monotone. That was what life felt like to him.

                                                                           ~~~~~~~~

Masato had never been the one to talk or engage in any active conversation with others. Somehow, he found it difficult to interact with people, ever since he was born. It was something he did not quite understand himself - an inbuilt repulsion to being social. Perhaps it was in his genes - the mechanism of moving away from anything related to communication. He didn't care either. No one was there to support him when he needed it. Nobody loved him. He just assumed his parents were the same way. It's not like he knew them anyway.

As his uncle Hiroto told him, he was very young when his parents died in a car crash. Ever since then, Masato had been living with his uncle Hiroto and thus, he had been the only person whom Masato could trust. However, the word "person" could hardly describe his uncle. Although he did take care of Masato, he additionally used to vent his stress on him. Being a freelancer, Hiroto often faced a lot of monetary and emotional stress. Every now and then, the anxiety would get to him, changing him entirely. While the little Masato depended on Hiroto for everything, Hiroto turned to alcohol and violence. Years of abuse had become a norm for him, until his heart could take the burden no more - weighed down with guilt and depression, its beating slowly came to a stop. Hiroto's death was the last straw. Masato now knew that he never really had anyone to actually care for him. He'd always been alone.

Through this loneliness, somewhere along the way, Masato had become good at understanding the tone of voice of a person, as if reading the wavelength of their voice itself. Even from afar, he had learnt to study the body language and reactions of others, imprinting it in his memory. He wondered why and how he did so, but each time he asked himself that question he found himself convincing himself of a hopeful future. One where he actually had friends. One where he felt loved and had a purpose. Maybe it was nothing but an empty dream, but it did help him. After all, this hope was what had kept him alive for all this time. He trusted that it would do so for a bit more time as well.