The Insignificant Death of Someone you Probably Used to Know, or Maybe Didn’t. In any Case if you Did, you Would have Remembered them Forever, I Guess.

TW: depression, suicidal thoughts, mental breakdown, vulgarity, self harm, later on violence, sexual content, possible sexual violence, other dark stuff I guess.


This memoir tells the story of my death. There is no hope, no happy ending. Its beginning is at the point where I had already given these things up. At that point, I already had no future and was set to wander aimlessly until I found the luck or the energy to die.

My name isn’t that important. I really don’t know why I’m writing any of this anyway. However it would probably be inconvenient for you were my fleeting existence to have no moniker to think of me by. Unfortunately for you, I don’t care about convenience in the slightest, and definitely don’t want to be remembered. In any case, I existed and now I don’t. Just like anybody else on this planet.

Now before you even try, there is no need to pity me, feel sad for me, or any of that other emotional bullshit. While my life wasn’t the best, I certainly wasn’t one of those starving children in China, or Africa, or another one of those far off places your parents probably talked about to get you to eat your veggies. I mean, I had my scattering of trauma, some mental illness, and a few comorbidities, but honestly, who doesn’t have a thing or two fucked up in their lives. Anyone who gets through this rat race unscathed is likely hiding more issues than anyone else from living in the bubble everyone’s kept them in.

Ah, I got sidetracked again… I’ll probably do that a lot so don’t mind it. …where were we now… Ah, yes.

The Insignificant Death of Someone you Probably Used to Know, or Maybe Didn’t. In any Case if you Did, you Would have Remembered them Forever, I Guess.

Yes that is the title, I know it is long, and who the fuck cares about the correct capitalization. Piss on my ashes if you give a shit, see if I care.

I think this sorta begins around the time of my fourth or so bigger mental breakdown. I mean, officially it began on a very special day when mommy and daddy, who loved each other veeeery much, discovered that their condom broke, and didn’t have an abortion because they were lust-filled religious dipshits who had barely gone through their teens with oaths of chastity intact (or at least, that’s what they claim), and were sure that they were each other’s eternal mate a week or two after they had met.

This isn’t about all that though, I am waaaaaayyyyy too lazy to write a post mortem autobiography, so be glad I gave you anything. Not that anyone would wanna read this hot pile of stinkin garbage anyway.

Where was I… reads back a bit ah, yes, so it was the fourth of the bigger breakdowns, right in the middle of the Covid-19 pandemic, in the US anyway. By this time, March 2021, everyone else in the world had already gotten their shit together and was moving on with their lives. So where was I? Long story short failed previous semester’s online classes again due to more and more frequent bouts of whatever excuse you wanna pick outta the hat, be it insomnia, anxiety, depression, nightmares, eating maybe every other day, apathy, or whatever other thing you wanna mention which though technically true, is still just an excuse for failing at life in capitalism. It wasn’t the first time this has happened so I was academically dismissed. If we’re being honest though, this probably would have happened even without the pandemic.

Anyways, that was last year. New year, new me… Right? Wrong. I halfassed getting a new job for a month or two, got something and didn’t like it, quit, and found another one. This new swanky full time remote customer service job with benefits was perfect for me, who has a computer, and was running out of money. In fact, by this time, my purse had all dried up, and with my start date a month away, I was in trouble. At the time, my covid bubble consisted of seven people: Two girlfriends, two partners, a boyfriend, and two friends, one of whom is a best friend who was a girlfriend, but we clicked better as friends, and the other friend who I know has a girl crush on me, and I her, but is in a monogamous relationship currently, so we’re gal pals™. I guess technically my family too, but as the oldest of 7, my family practically bursts the recommended bubble limit on it’s own. To say the least, I took two weeks between family holidays and seeing anyone else. Let’s just say, I believed much more in the safety and health a good mask and safety guidelines could give, than goin to church, prayer, and Jesus ever could.

So with all this love, support, and more friends/romantic partners than your average anime shitty harem protagonist, I must have had many people to lean on during this time of crisis. … yeah… Nope. Like the fucked-up american I was raised, I held all information about vulnerability, weakness, and financial distress under lock and key until the very last moment…or I would have, but the past year I had started going to therapy, and had opened up about some of my struggles and emotions to one of my girlfriends, but only after she had asked me about them on a walk after she had noticed my high levels of distress and frequent nightmares while staying at her place for a week. When I opened up in tears, she offered to help me out financially until I was back on my feet, which I reluctantly, but thankfully accepted. As for the other people, I gave two of them a general idea on happenings without specifics relating to emotions or finances, and kept the rest in the dark while we enjoyed other less stressful times together, like a hot springs trip, cooking delicious meals together, and a cold fishing outing filled with warm cuddles.

At this point there was still a bit of hope, and I mentally chided myself to not be like squidward when he lost his job. After all, I would start working, and everything would be fine again…just…fine.

The next month was long. With security, the anxiety should have gone away at least a little. I tried to stop being nocturnal for quite some time, but my body would not allow it. Sleeping at night would give nightmares, or worse, I would stay awake for hours on end, alone with my thoughts and nothing else. Sleeping meds wouldn’t work, a proper routine did the trick for a few days, but it went right back once I got into a good book and stayed awake reading it for 36 hours. And to top it all off, it felt like no matter what I tried I was always tired, and my mind had a dull hazy ache.

The month passed, it was a day before the job, and I got an e-mail… Apparently, I didn’t pass their typing test by something like 3 words per minute, and they would “reluctantly” be unable to consider me for a position… after they had accepted me, all my other crap, the drug test, background check, everything, and they…and they… it didn’t work…I tried and it didn’t work…this job, my last job, school, the job before that, so many friends and relationships I only got to keep myself distracted… To keep myself safe so at least someone would always be there… What was the point? No matter who it was, no one could possibly be emotionally there at four am night after night… Not that I ever tried to lean on anyone… Sure my girlfriend, and even others, had offered love and support, but after all this, I would just be a burden on them. … I would just be a burden on everyone… No matter what I just failed. I fail and I fail and I fail and I fail and it… I don’t know… I just don’t want to try anymore. I want to stop trying. I don’t care anymore. I want to break this time, and never be put back together again…….I’m done.

And this, my dear readers, is where the story truly begins.

Part 1

If I ever took any of my devices off of silent or do not disturb modes, I would have woken to the sounds of two notifications from my girlfriend… The one who I opened up to, not the other one (yes I know it’s confusing, no I don’t care, and lastly I’m not makin a goddamn flowchart).

GF: Hey baby <3
So how was your first day?

I don’t even know how long I spent looking at those messages.Seeing them tore me apart from the insides. I could feel all the love, the care, the affection, and most of all the heavy weight of hope and expectation carried in those few words.

At the very least, I was thankful at that moment, but also a bit sad that I had no kids. For one, no one relied on me to live, but if there had been, I’m sure I would have pushed myself even further than my limits to take care of them. At the least, right now… I didn’t want to be a burden. At the same time though, I wanted no more than to give up completely on everything, and depend fully on someone else for everything. … That was only a fantasy though, reality is seldom so accommodating.

I looked at the words again… Chills ran through my body, goosebumps splattered here and there. My chest tightened and my head began to ache.

I had the intense urge to bang my head against something hard. Just enough to numb everything else…just enough to feel something where I could reach it, rather than to have this complicated hurting flying about like wisps everywhere and nowhere inside of me.

I wanted a drink, wanted to pass out, wanted to sleep and never wake up again, but I promised myself long ago that I wouldn’t hurt myself anymore, and wouldn’t rely on anything addicting when my mental state wasn’t healthy.
Of course, with these promises, I had been sober for faaar too long…

Instead I went to my other vices, erotic stories, video games, light novels with at least hundreds or thousands of chapters, and anime.

My mind dived into a sea of obsession and distraction, and I didn’t come up for air, or food for many days. I barely slept, and couldn’t even manage to step outside my room for fear of seeing my housemate, being asked “How’s it going?”, and completely breaking down in front of him. However, due to my interests, I had a ready supply of diapers, and could avoid any unnecessary trips to the restroom. In the case I needed to shit, or drink water, it would wait until he slept or was at work.

When I was more ready to face the world a bit later…only four days this time, I scanned through my messages. Seems like I missed a few occasions to hang out with a friend or a partner, and my girlfriend had added “Are you alright?” to her previous messages and attempted a phone call at some point. I decided to take the safe approach and replied, “No, but I am physically fine”.

As soon as I sent the message I wanted nothing more than to cry, to be with her and cry, and let it all out, and have it all somehow become magically better. It was 3:37am… that sort of thing is only a wish. Reality wouldn’t allow for these kinds of problems to magically poof away. I am broken. I am broken and no matter what I try will fail. People will love me, but will get bored and move on. Even the ones who love me most, I will want to lean on, and they will think I am too needy, or a bother, or worse, they will help as much as they can, and I will take and take and take until I break them too. They won’t be able to cope emotionally, or they will lose everything trying to provide for my basic needs as I jump from job to job, never being able to hold anything down.

I want to rely on others… I want to share how I hurt, and to be soothed and feel better. I want to get help, and to accept the love and support everyone around me is offering…but once I start giving in more, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop. For the most part I’ve been keeping things in, and isolating myself to keep that from happening, but it makes them more worried, and now I’ve even started accepting help. I don’t want to hurt them forever… I don’t want to pretend things will get better anymore. I don’t want them to face me with the same painted on smile I’ve been wearing for years only for them to slowly feed me pieces of themselves until I consume them entirely.

I know they would help me, I know they want to, I know they love me, I know they would probably let themselves get hurt to help me. I don’t want it. I want it, but I don’t want this control over others. I don’t want my desperation to hurt anyone…not anyone else… only me… If only I get hurt… It will be okay… … . I can’t let myself be around them anymore.

I need a plan. I will go somewhere far away, and disappear forever. They need to think I’m safe, so they can slowly forget me…that way it won’t hurt them anymore. They can believe I’ve moved on to a better life, and I can fade away without hurting anyone anymore. I can break on my own, and no one will have to cry.


Part 2

It took a few days, but I was able to manage to make something like a plan. It was good enough to get out anyway. I got a job at Wendy’s. Literally only walked in, asked if they were hiring, and the dead tired looking manager gave me a job.

Well it took a bit more than that. They had asked in a hopeful voice “Can you come in to work tomorrow morning? We are really low on workers right now.”

I agreed and they told me to apply online to make it official, but ignore everything that mentioned an interview or any of that extra bullshit, and just come in tomorrow morning.

They stressed that part, “Please come in tomorrow morning. Look, I’ll even give you a team lead position, it pays like $14/hr. We have a few spare uniforms in the back, and I really don’t even care if you show up in your PJs. Just get here on time at all costs.”

It was the easiest I’d ever gotten a job. Granted, it seemed like I’d be worked to the bone, but I really needed the cash right now, so I guess grinding till I collapse wouldn’t be so bad for a few months. Not like it’d kill me, and even if it did, I wouldn’t be too disappointed.

That night, I filled out the application, and treated myself to a delicious cup ramen for the I lost count by now time this week. Then after a long shower… then a bath cause I didn’t want to get out yet, I finally willed myself to tell my girlfriend and a few other people who had expressed concern and who I hadn’t messaged back in a while.

I texted them, “Didn’t get the job I wanted, but got a new one. Sorry for not replying for so long. I’ll be exposed to lotsa people though, so we’ll have to keep distant until the plague is over or the world ends. I know it sucks, but I can’t put anyone at risk. Thanks for worrying about me, but I’ll probably be fine from now on.”

The next day I showed up to Wendy’s, not in my PJs, and began my first day. It was just me, the manager, and the assistant manager. I received brief instructions on everything, and was to ’just hang in there’.

It was exhausting, but the manager let me eat anything I want for free, even if it was supposed to be only one meal at half price for employees, cause fuck corporate. So even though it was the hardest I had worked in a looooong time, it came with frostees, fries, and anything else I wanted. I took advantage of this, and planned to eat as little from home as I could manage. I mean, yeah I had watched that one movie about the guy who had eaten only mcdonalds for a month, but I looked like a stick right now, and wasn’t gonna pass on free food. I’d just try and keep some balance I guess.

The day passed good enough, and it seemed like no one would die to food poisoning, but with all the customers who wouldn’t wear a mask it was more likely they would die from something else. Fortunately I was protected by my own company provided paper thin black mask and an all powerful plastic barrier to bless me and others with an illusion of safety. It seemed as protective as a standard door lock from the perspective of someone who had a lockpicking kit and knew how to use it.

Luckily, my manager was so tired of all of it, they gave me full power to refuse service to any non-maskers, and even cuss them out if they badmouthed anyone or went super karen. They even told me to wear their manager badge while working the register, cause the last thing they wanted to do was deal with any of that shit.

I got the vibe that they had been trying to get fired for a while now, but since no one gave a rat’s ass about anything, they would just do whatever they fucking wanted.

Honestly, the satisfaction of refusing anyone who was the equivalent of a brain washed biological warfare suicide bombers, getting to tell them off in any creative way my mind could come up with, and pull out the manager card in a move of absolute defiance almost made up for everything I had to deal with.

One paycheck later I was promoted to assistant manager. The last one left. Thankfully not Covid, they just wanted out. I couldn’t blame them. I had been working double and triple shifts every day, and who knows how long they had been doing the exact same thing. At some point I had begun to wear Goodnites to work, to make things a bit easier on myself.

After a while the manager had started ordering uber eats on their dime for the both of us during shifts. The first few drivers were pretty confused, but they got used to us and stopped canceling our order just cause it was being sent to a Wendy’s.

While we both worked our sweet little asses off, we were eating sushi, pizza, shawarma, gyros, and anything else our stomachs even slightly craved at any moment. We played whatever music we wanted in the store, and even convinced one of the delivery guys to join the team.
Eventually, we had all gotten immunized, so at least there was less risk for that, and with all the work, I never had a moment to think for myself or really feel anything deeper than the current day’s difficulties. I might have even described myself as content. My plans had all but faded to the back of my mind as my exhausted body went through the motions of work based purely on muscle memory, and days of work passed where I couldn’t even tell if I had been conscious, and hardly had any memory of anything.

I was just a content exhausted worker, and nothing else. I didn’t need anything else, and nothing else mattered right now. I was a slave to my job, but could have anything I desired within reason.

Three months after I was hired, in late May, the manager was fired. I was not promoted, and a new manager was transferred over. Under the illusion that everyone was safe, they mandated that we were no longer permitted to refuse customers if they didn’t wear a mask. The music stopped, the food stopped, more bodies were somehow hired, and I was only working doubles every day. My body began to recover with rest, and my thoughts and emotions started seeping back into my head along with it. Even with more sleep, the free meals stopped. I had to feed myself now, and wasn’t the best at that. I forgot to eat pretty often, and when I did it wasn’t the best for me. Once or twice at work my head had gotten dizzy and I blacked out for a few seconds. The second time brought me to my knees.

I realized I didn’t want to live and work in this hellscape anymore, and quit after my next paycheck.

After some rest, and a few days of soup and sandwiches, I remembered that I had a plan, and now I had the funds for it.


This may be a little dark, and not exactly the fetish fuel a number of people likely come for, but.
There’s a level of realness here that drew me in very quickly, enough that I made an account. There’s a level of relatability here on different levels, and a fetish doesn’t take away that real life often sucks.
I don’t know if this’ll get updated, but thanks for what you’ve written Nim.

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This is different and in a good way. I’m buckled up and along for the ride. You’ve done an excellent portrayal and dissection of the character’s internal workings as they fall apart at the seems. Emotionally and mentally unstable characters can be hard to portray but you’ve fleshed this one out very well. This character is a hot mess but in a good way- intentionally a mess by author design and written that way. Kudos. From what’s been posted so far, I get the vibes this character is driving a bullet train to hell and is gonna collide with a brick wall. (Metaphorically speaking).

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I am really enjoying this story so far. It is a refreshingly clear portrayal of mental health issues and how COVID exacerbated those issues for people who were already dealing with them. I found it extremely relatable and well written for the prose style you’ve chosen. I am looking forward to and dreading the next chapter.

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Part 3

I am broken. Something is wrong. It has always been wrong. I have always been wrong. I can’t keep a normal job unless the job and everyone around me has already collapsed into some nearly unrecognizable state. I am unable to manage school or university in any state, and have no idea how I passed high school. I have tried over and over and over and over and over again to be any kind of functioning adult, to at the very least survive with any job I can get, and it hasn’t worked.

I’ve only written a glimpse here in my post mortem memoir, but I have held many jobs, tried different schools and degrees, and even tried a few more unconventional methods of making a living before getting to this point.

No one who has observed my life could say I didn’t try hard enough. Even if they could, screw ‘em.

I am even more done with everything than earlier, but all that is left is to start research on my plan. As stupid as it may be, it is my last goal in life, and I will see it through.

The Plan: check the last item in my bucket list and live in Japan.

I take my first step, finding the excuse. This step is quite easy in theory, but to really flesh it out, I will need details, and plausible reliability. Unless this sounds like an actual viable plan, Others will also be unsatisfied, and will worry about me. I must reduce any worrying to the bare minimum, at least for the short time. I know it is cruel, but I want to postpone any actual heartache to the last possible second.

After much consideration, I have decided to enroll in language classes in Japan. I shall find a career driven one, which facilitates transfer to a workplace or university after course completion. With this, there should be no doubt in anyone’s mind, and who knows, I might even try it for a bit and see if it works for me. I completely doubt the possibility though.

In actuality, I will attempt to secure a job or transfer to university after the course, but will without a doubt fail in doing so. With no degree, and poor grades, I can’t help but have a realistic perspective, even if, no… especially because I will be paying for the language classes.

I will almost certainly be rejected at nearly every opportunity, unless I have the fortune to find one as hopelessly desperate and broken as myself. When I don’t find anything, I shall simply wander and enjoy myself as best I can. Perhaps until I fade into nothingness somewhere, or die somehow, reassuring loved ones through phone calls that I am happy and safe living abroad up to my last breath. After that, I hope my consciousness or whatever could just dissipate into non-existence.

Just adding a little note here: This is simply a recollection of my past thoughts written from the afterlife, or perhaps the in-between life? Whatever this is, I would like to let any readers, who happen to have the misfortune of reading the steaming bed of shit that is a snippet of my last days, know that I am still very incredibly conscious, and bored, and emotions and thoughts still hurt just as much if not more as when I was living. It seems that I don’t have any other pain to distract me from my emotional pains in this bodiless state. If you are only reading this to find out if there is a happy ending, or some sort of overall growth, I’ll spoil it for you now. There is no growth, and my death was just as sad, miserable, and overwhelmingly cringy as my life seemed to be. You can stop reading now and find something better to do. The only reason I’ll still be writing this is to distract myself from my own thoughts and boredom. Please leave, you shouldn’t have to suffer too.

Now back to where I was:

It was then that the old man forcibly grabbed me and brought me close…

Oops wrong place… Where was I again? … ah right. This seems to be the right spot, or close enough, I’m sure, sorry about that… Or not, I really don’t have any reason to be sorry now… Do I?


After I finished organizing and setting up nearly every last detail of my plan to it’s complete preparatory finality, a lot of my anxieties and worries and fears seem to have gotten a lot smaller, and it is a lot easier to think now. Almost like my head is swimming through something that is light and has substance, but almost like it has no substance. Maybe like a meringue cookie, but if it were a liquid instead I guess.

It is perhaps akin to reaching out to a bird, or perhaps a butterfly, and asking myself, “Is this being at peace?”.

What time is it… It seems to be light outside my window.

Ah, yes!! I should get the money back to my girlfriend for helping me earlier!!!

I quickly venmo’d her back the exact amount she gave me in support a few months prior, and then decided to check my messages… all of them….just after a few more deep breaths…and maybe a snack…

It is much darker now, but not past midnight, and I have finally gotten myself to check the messages. Most of them are general invitation to hang, fuck, checking up on me, or a variation of those.

It is probably too late to reply though, most of them are probably already sleeping. I mean, I know a lot of my partners and friends, and family stay up later, but I wouldn’t want to bother them in case they went to bed early. It is probably best to message them tomorrow.

Right after I thought that, I got a buzz.

GF: I noticed you sent the money back. How are you doing? I love you~

Huh, weird. For some reason, I’ve started crying I guess. Looks like she’s awake, so I guess responding would make sense.

ME: Never felt better. There’s a lot that’s happened, but it’s a bit of a long story. Are you free tomorrow? We can meet up and I’ll tell you about it. Love ya n.n

GF: Sure! Does 11am work?

ME: Yep! Can’t wait ^w^

The next morning, I woke up early enough, and had rested pretty well. I had only recalled waking up a few different times, and didn’t remember any nightmares at all!

I got myself ready for the day, and only had to look for a few things that I almost forgot when my girlfriend arrived to pick me up.

On the way to her place we stopped by a gas station. She got herself a coke, and bought me some strawberry milk.

Once we got to her home, I told her the full story. The revised one with the excuse, not the disappear into nothing one!! That would be waaaaaaaaay too dangerous.

She seemed pretty concerned, and gave me lots of big hugs when the job got worse and worse and I quit. She also seemed a bit confused when apparently the worse working conditions in her mind were better for me than the more reasonable ones near the end. We took quite a bit of time to just hug and cuddle, and then I mentioned my language school plan. At this, she seemed happy for me, but I could also see the slight worry and perhaps a bit of sadness behind her smiles and wishing of luck.

She then brought up a point I had completely forgotten about. Was Japan even opening their borders yet? We decided to look it up.

Today was June 6th, 2021, just a few days prior on June 3rd, Japan announced that they would be lessening travel restrictions for foreign businessmen and students who have received all dosages of select Covid-19 vaccines at least one month prior, submit a negative Covid-19 test taken no more than 72 hours prior to arrival, quarantine for 14 days, and sign an agreement to abide by all quarantine regulations. Students and businessmen would also require proof in the form of an official letter from their school or business verifying their reason for traveling and the estimated duration of stay. Foreign tourists would remain banned until further notice.

Luckily, the language school I had selected was one which could provide this verification and allow me to visit and live for some time with a student visa.

After verifying this information myself, and showing it to my girlfriend, she seemed reassured that everything was okay, but naturally still felt a bit sad.

There was a long and uncomfortable silence. We held a conversation without words. Longing for each other, missing each other, loving each other.

…For a moment I didn’t want to go, and I know she wanted me to stay.

My emotions torrented within me, tearing me apart from the inside and threatening to unleash in an uncontrollable sloppy tantrum, leaving me in broken pieces to put back together later. I wanted to, I wanted to be so helpless, so vulnerable, so little in front of my girlfriend, to let her see the mess I am on the inside, and be hugged and comforted, and everything to magically become better.

I couldn’t do that though. I couldn’t put all of my emotional burden on her, giving my problems to someone else to fix. That wouldn’t be right. I can’t let myself hurt her like that. She had told me many times before, she preferred living alone, and couldn’t imagine living with someone else. She has repeated time after time that I had a good location and price with my roommate, and it would never be good to move in together. There are just too many times when she needs privacy and a break from others, even me.

I understand that, but I still wished that those were only lies told to comfort me in some cruel loving way. I felt they were probably the truth though. I need a break from people sometimes too. However, more often I want to rely on someone completely and never have to be responsible or choose anything ever again. That is not reality though, that could never be reality, so instead, I only dare to hope for a break from life. That kind of thing should never be said though.

I take a hold of my raging feelings, and slowly let them seep through as I plaster on a smile that says “I’ll miss you”, and leak out silent tears. Once I can barely manage to hold onto this face, I hide it against her in a hug.

We calm down, and have lunch. We make homemade mac and cheese. She came up with the idea, because she knows I like it.

We eat, and make small talk. We discuss anything and everything other than what we discussed earlier.

We watch some Star Trek together. Voyager, because… well, have you seen Janeway? The reason is self explanatory.

We drink some wine, Cabernet Sauvignon if you must know, finest quality a la box, and then we fuck. It is good. It is loud. There are vibrators and dildos aplenty. I think the best part though, was not remembering when I fell asleep, and waking fully rested. I had no dream, I never woke up in the night, I felt safe, and last of all I feel horrible that I am leaving all this behind. However, I can’t stay anymore. I won’t let myself. I’m done.

That day I put in my application for the language school. I was accepted a week after, booked my flight, and received a verification letter.

The course would start October 10th, and my flight would leave on September 23rd.

I called all my relatives who I was on speaking terms with, and hung out with all other friends, partners, dates, and fuckbuddies to have a few good times before I left. I visited my parents and all of my younger siblings. I gave my roommate advance notice by a few months, left my extra stuff in my parents’ garage, and took care of all other plans, loose ends, and trivial things.

The trip through the airports went quite smoothly as I made the first steps towards the end of my journey.