I'm not sure if I should put my name here or not, so I won't, just to keep safe. I don't want anyone finding me after this.
I don't know why you picked this book up; maybe it was sitting on the end of a shelf, or laying on a table in a coffeeshop, or sticking awkardly in a large pile. Maybe it was the shape; just normal enough to not arouse suspicion, but just unusual enough to catch your eye. Maybe someone passed this off to you, with a hushed look in their eyes with a refusal to explain.
The choice to read this is entirely up to you, and...one I cannot express enough gratitude for. Personal choice is the most powerful...
I should explain.
What's on these following pages is a story. A story about myself, who I was, what I am now, and everything inbetween.
About a world called Mirr.
About the truth, and the struggle to achieve it.
About people, peace understanding, unity and (as corny as it sounds, i'll admit) friendship.
Please don't hark upon me. My words often switch from elegant to slang and back again. I'm sorry; I'm just trying to write things down as the way I felt them at the time, with what vocabulary I have.
Also: I don't want anyone to punish or hate me for my decisions. All my good decisions, bad decisions, lucky breaks and horrible mistakes that I made, I made with what I knew at the time. I tried my best.
All I'm trying to do is record what happened to me.
It's hard, understanding these things.
I just want to show you me, and what happened to me in Mirr.
I hope you can go there too someday.
Thank you for understanding.
(a large paw print in black ink is here)
"There is no truth; only the illusion that it exists."