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It’s funny how ironic life is. If someone would stop, listen, and think maybe there wouldn’t be so many unknowns and mysteries.
As a child, he had many “imaginary friends”. His parents were baffled by the conversations they would hear when they eavesdropped on their young son. Teachers were concerned about the boy saying he was always alone and never talked or played with his classmates. As the boy grew older he began to draw. Nothing fancy at first, just simple sketches of shadowy humanoid figures. His parents thought it was a harmless quirk, just a shy boy who made up stories about his nonexistent friends.
It wasn't until middle school that they became concerned by their son’s deteriorating eyesight and the darker turn of the stories. As the boy grew older his vision continued to behave erratically, fading in and out. Everyone in the medical field was either baffled or disbelieving of the claims the boy made. Eventually, even the boy's parents stopped believing the claims and stories the boy told.
This is the story of that boy. The boy who grew into the man I am today. It matters not to me if you, the one reading this believe what I tell you. No one else ever has, and I've stopped caring a long time ago.