In the beginning, there was nothing. As I look in my life right now, it is as if it was in the beginning. What is life? What is love? What is the true purpose of it all? Why do we labor so hard for something that we truly do not understand, for what we truly do not comprehend.

    Am I lost? Do I even exist so that I can be lost? If I do, then what is it that proves my existance? Is it my achievements? My relationships? When I die, how long will the people that I call friends and family remember me? If they do, what will they remember me as? Funny? Maybe even hilarious. Was I responsible, honourable, respectable? Was I dependable when the time calls for it? Or was I only a joke? A fleeting memory, a floating cloud, a passing wind. Was I, me? Perhaps, for years to come, my tombstone will be my only mark that I walked on this earth and even that will dissappear one day. Then, at that point of time, what am I?

    This is a story about a boy on a journey, trying to become a man.