This is the start of the age of the saber-wielding purple rabbit.

So this took me years to begin. I’ve always wanted to have my own site, publish my stuff, and do whatever.

Well, that was the problem—I just wanted to do whatever. That whatever is a big enigma. Even now as I am writing it, I can’t explain what it is.

I’m sure some people can relate: you think of good ideas, you can picture them vividly in your head, but for some reason, it’s very difficult to start. When you do try to start, pushing forward and materializing that whatever is the next hard part.

It’s like joining a run where you’re caught in the middle of the pack. Lining up at the starting line is kinda exciting, and then comes the countdown: 3… 2… 1.

The first few hundred meters to a kilometer are always the hardest as you try to navigate the sea of slow-moving runners. Depending on your pacing, you either just let people be slow and wait for the path to open up—or you try to Naruto your way past the snail-paced NPCs.

Then, once you have surpassed the crowd of sluggish neanderthals, you finally get to run at a faster pace. But your body is still not quite there yet, because these runs happen either super early—when even the worms aren’t awake yet—or late in the evening when you were supposed to be partying. The odds are really against you (or maybe just me).

Until your body and mind realize that they need to accept this. That you have chosen this path out of your own volition, and that it needs to support this insanity. And so you finally hit a comfortable pace, but there is still much more distance to cover; you’re still at the first 2 to 3 kilometers.

And that’s where I’m at. I hope.

I am forcing my mind into thinking that we are way past the starting line, and that we have trudged our way out of the slow-moving homunculi.

Like all the runs I’ve joined, I hope I don’t have to ask for the ambulance to take me home.