I’ve included this original prologue written when I was seventeen because it shows a terribly anachronistic mode of thinking that is at once fraught with the arrogance of the “I am so mature.” and filled with interesting insight to how I must have thought as a seventeen-year old. It is frightening for me to read this, but that’s okay, I just hope I have grown at least a little since then.

Age 25



             No one understands me. No one cares. Why  do I even exist? There was a time in my life when I always felt as though there was always something wrong, someone against  me. Why couldn’t people be just so…perfect.  Why did everyone have so many faults? I believed in Utopia.

             It was in my secondary and university transition years that this wonderment beset me. I was a first generation Chinese in America, torn by my heretige and the social demands of American culture. I did not have the problem many orientals did in getting  accepted by  my caucassian peers, rather, I had difficulty in the manner of  thought and philosophy, due to the difference in the Chinese parental view and the societal dictations of American ones. I was a confused stubborn child who could not face the hardships and could not cope with the trauma of growing up. So I created this, Utopia.

             Being a creative child from birth, I early grasped the vastness of the imagination. True, that in our present life we can see the universe as vast and limitless and we stand in awe of it, but even more awesome is the mind and the imagination. The universe may be infinite, but my imagination can concieve of an infinite number of universes, so truly, which is more limitless?

             This mode of thought took root shortly after my  attempt on my own life early in my secondary school years. The cause of such a foolhardy gesture was a beautiful, petite girl that had so captivated me at the time. I had given  myself wholy to her, sold my mind and soul, so to speak. In the process I succumbed to the basest of emotions – Jealousy. It is said that jealousy destroys trust. So it does. My  relationship quickly deteiorated from a good, budding mutual friendship to a horrifying one-sided obsession, an obsession that ended in catastrophe.

             From the experience, I learned maturity: honor, compassion, duty , loyalty, and most importantly, friendship. I looked on my role as the ideal philanthropist. What I couldn’t seem to understand or cope with was that if I could change and try to be so `perfect’ then why couldn’t everyone else?  As you can see, I still hadn’t learned humility and was still quite arrogant and immature in that respect.

             Suffering from a broken heart, I refrained from falling in love again. It  would have hurt too much. However, deeply buried within, me the obsession continued in subtle disguise, every so often resurfacing  during emotional lows. This was so different from the first time I had broken my heart in elementary school, in which following the pain, I had looked desperately everywhere for a duplicate. With this first girl I had broken all contact with her in order to try and forget her, but with the second, I strived to become good friends with her again, hiding my pain in gestures of romance. As a result, we became closer  friends  then ever before, but remained as such – friends. In trying not to have a single girlfriend, I opened up and consorted with a wider array of girls.  Yet, with a degree of dissatisfaction, none  of them seemed to fit either of the previous girls’ standards. What I had created, was an ideal from which even the previous two could  not  match. Being an incurable  romantic, I was melodramatic about everything. I romanticized even the most mundane trivialities in life until to others, I was living a full and rich life beset by tragedy after tragedy.  This  was not far from  the truth, for  between my romantic  depression and the increasingly high  demand from my parents for better academic performance, I suffered a great deal.  It seemed  to others that  I could  cope with  these depressions,  as pride forced me to present a pleasant facade to the world, however, inside, I was bare, even raw, and it hurt.

             It was  at that  time that  I created  Mikeio Ichishita. This girl, being  a figament of  my imagination, lived  up to the ideal template I had set for her.  At night before I fell asleep,  I  would  talk  to  her, and she became increasingly real.  Pretty soon, I enjoyed my sleeping hours far more than the  waking  ones.   Fantasy  had  temporarily filled the gap caused by reality.  Each encounter became more and more vivid and soon they began to drift into my dreams and become a part of them.  In those dreams I had full control of myself as  if I were awake and it was at that time that I felt as though  I  could command a  greater measure of  control over my  dreams. In time, this control became absolute.

             Mikeio  was  the  perfect  girl  and the imagination was limitless, so one evening, I looked into my a mind and saw  a perfect void, and  in that void  I created heaven  and earth, but being only ideas they existed  in a vague  term and were shadowed  by  darkness,  plastic,  unreal.   So,  I gave them credence and  made them  become as  real as  my own and said; “Let there  be light.”  and I  saw that  the light  was good.