I remember the time I remembered. It was the wizard who guided me deep, deep into myself, back to myself.
I remembered then.
I remembered how I felt before I was born. I remembered the determination, the sense of purpose and the excitement bubbling within me — not a happy, sparkly sort of thing, but a solemn one. A solemn excitement.
An excitement that had me jump out of my mother womb nearly unassisted.
I do not remember what happened next. I do not remember my first impression of the world, though “oh what the hell!” might have crossed my newly acquired mind.
I do not remember many things that happened after, but I do remember that
I was born
because I chose to.
