CHAPTER 1, Occhiolism: the awareness that one's perspective is limited and that it's impossible to fully understand the world.

  My muscles pulled, whined, under the weight of my bag, my coat, my time here.

  I pulled myself up, the grass is soft and dry, forming the endless carpets of my new home.

  I've settled in the past few weeks. I found a clearing in the pines, slowly preparing to live alongside it.

  Allowing myself to bend to its whim as much as I can being an unnatural and unnecessary part of this place.

  I was lucky to arrive in the Early fall when the days were warm and food was plentiful. But the cold creeping into the night was far from a warm welcome. Fall is beautiful in the north but cold, very cold.

  I'm not even sure where I am anymore. I remember very little from my life but luckily a sixth sense is all you need here.

  Dawn begins to greet the woods as I make my way to the rocky banks of the river,

  The world's slow, calm, peaceful, the Bryoria is still alive and well, coating the trees lined in lace, the most elegant of dream catchers I've found here.

  The way the sun soaks them, beading onto the grass.

  Leading me back to the water.

  Truly it’s not at all what I thought I'd be eating.

  But very few insects, birds, or fish can be found here.

  Life seems to have become dull; everything feels empty, eerily quiet. My pain, my hunger, it's lighter than it ever was before. And yet the woods seem to be a little too alive.

  The moss grows too fast and the trees seem to wander.

  It's a miracle I’ve been able to keep myself from wandering into nothing. The paths never seem to look the same yet the trees have always been on my side…

  I have a feeling if they didn't want me here, I wouldn't be.

  Honestly, I don't know how I got this far.

  A ways back when I was new here I’d gotten myself into a scuffle of sorts.

  The first few weeks all I remember was searching for something, someone, like my body didn't realize I was still alive until something jostled me awake. I've prepared myself a bit better since then, more alert, slower, more cautious,

  not that I wasn't before.

  I shifted my weight carefully, this time down the rocks of the river bank, getting the flask out of the pocket of my jacket.

  I was luckier than most, having some idea how to survive out here.

  The supplies on the other hand I had found,

  I was chasing the only other living thing I had found out here.

  The thing that woke me from my rest, even so,

  I thought it would lead me to answers but with my luck, I only got more questions.

  And only a glimpse of them.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Jumpy, uneven, its skin was scalloped and buckling onto itself, blistering into soft, weightless powder so fine the air breathed alongside it.

  I was so startled by it just seeming to appear out of thin air that once it ran off. It took me much longer than it should have to look for answers.

  But answers, well they never were something that comes easy.

  I followed them to some kind of cliff side,

  There was no sign of anyone or anything.

  But that's where I began my search.

  I was lucky to find anything much less exactly what I needed to survive out here: a lighter, a metal flask, and a bit of fabric tucked under some rocks.

  It smelled like mold and was horribly sun-bleached but I'm far from picky at this point.

  Plus whoever it belongs to, if they haven't come back by now I'm sure they'll do without it. The lighter was already empty but with a good spark, I could have been more lucky.

  I continued to wander for a few hours trying to find where that thing had come from, or who the lighter had belonged to. Looking for anything really,

  humanity, civilization, survival.

  But then the water found me.

  Something about being near the water, normally the common point of all life, I realized how little life there was here.

  And began to wonder why I had not collapsed from exhaustion or hunger. I may have only been awake a day or two, but I'd been wandering for weeks.

  Being away from camp always made me uneasy, the woods aren't exactly welcoming.

  I began to adjust the flask, dipping it down into the water.

  The metal is thin and already becoming cold to the touch.

  Lots of daylight to take advantage of, when you wake early.

  what to spend it doing is the only question, I was running out of ideas and sanity.

  It's not a comparable feeling to walk into a place expecting a concert venue only to find the noise of silence,

  No chatter of birds.

  No droning of bees.

  Even the drumming of my feet had no rhythm.

  It's empty, and I feel it in every part of me.

  Unlucky.

  Our little Bug has always been unlucky. I'll show you for what it's worth. It loves to fight, love, life, pain. I could give it anything, and it still grovels at my feet, grieving the day I'll take it away knowing that days years from now. They'll never understand, they'll always fight their heart and their mind. Even if I gave them a chance to choose.

  Standing facing the water,

  They had a moment to take in a slow breath, soured by the wind and sweetened by the morning.

  Life was toying with them. They had every reason to be nervous, and they were nervous.

  in an instant,

  Their instincts told them to slow their breathing.

  Still facing the water there was no way to check their surroundings without giving away the upper hand.

  They pulled a chipped stone wrapped in cloth out of the pocket of their jacket holding it tight against them. It hooked in towards them the blade only as long as their palm, hopefully, it would fit through someone else's just as well, they made su—

  snap,

  Their heart skipped a beat and they held a breath for a few long seconds.

  They adjusted their jacket, turning ever so slightly before coming to their feet. The threat, whatever it was, still stood in the tree line. All they had to do was stay calm and hope they don't want a fight either. The chance of another person being around made their heart jump a bit. The only question was friend or foe if there's a chance it was another one of those things, now might be the only chance to get some answers before it disappears again.

  Don't panic,

  don't let it know,

  breathe.

  They moved deliberately and calmly along the bank of the water before their curiosity got the better of them.

  Without giving too much away they turned to look,

  nothing,

  they turned more,

  nothing,

  they moved to the tree line,

  their knuckles began to creak by the fear they held onto at that moment.

  But the only blood to be drawn today was from that poorly crafted blade against their palm.

  Even yet, the woods won't get a taste.

  And their heart won't slow for days, that's just their nature.

  They are only a bug so small in the grand scheme of things.

  And that's how they feel with no one else around, no memories, and no reason to fight for survival, lost is an incomplete term.

  And yet they continued their routine once again gathering wood to build yet another fire and plants to fill their stomach one more night.

  To be more alive than they ever wanted to be, more alive than anyone should ever be.