Some context before you begin.

I moved into The Promised Land, finally leaving my birthplace and landing in a place where I was reborn.

I made many unconscious decisions throughout my upbringing, allowing life to have its way with me until I decided to get out and change the scene. I’d never ventured into another nation, never explored any distant lands. All I knew was my milieu; my frame of reference was limited by the boundaries set by devils and their dogmas. Escaping was the only choice.

When I couldn’t reach out to a friend, I’d reach for the remotes. With a click of a button, I’d be transported to different realms with ethereal characters. I devoured everything that the screens had to offer, from dystopian planets engulfed in existential wars to chipmunks saving the day, from running as a criminal in a city to managing sports teams, I ate it all up. My plate was full of stories and scenarios from all over the world, across the galaxies and the universe. The stories consumed me as much as I consumed them. They gave me lessons and learnings, which I weaved into threads of tales for anyone listening.

I didn’t have a way with words back then, so I relied on drawings to tell my stories. A barren, empty page was my best friend. I filled it with strips of short stories and characters that danced in my head, crying to be let out onto the pages. I drew from imagination and drew for recreation. As the years went by, shapes turned into lines and lines turned into words. The creations manifested themselves as drawings that transformed into paragraphs, which morphed into pixels that eventually walked over to the screens. Somewhere along the way, I forgot about this affinity to create. Too many distractions and numbing agents spoiled the fun.

However, as soon as my feet touched the ground of The Promised Land, it all came rushing back to me. The whiff of hope in the air whispered into my ears, reminding me of my lost passions. I wandered around neighboring cities for a month before heading over to The Dreamland. I was on cloud ninety-nine. I’d dreamed of this place in my sleep, searched for it in my nightmares; I was exactly where I was meant to be. The Dreamland was just like it was depicted in the stories I saw, read, and heard.

I was granted entry into The Promised Land on the pretense of institutional education. This world had its own rules and regulations, but at least it was more straightforward than the one I’m from. This one operates on a simple Pay-to-Play structure, fueled by monetary incentives and intellectual caliber. It was unsettling at first, seeing all these leveled-up players running amok the streets and achieving great feats. I had a lot of catching up to do and a lot of points to gain. A couple of days of the week were reserved to play to the tunes of The Institution, while the rest were meant to explore The Dreamland. I met other characters on their journeys who told me tales of their worlds, spoke in alien tongues, and taught me their ways. I was mesmerized by the number of experiences and situations they were part of.

I met most of these characters in The Hall, a breeding ground of foreign beings from around the globe. The rooms were old, the staircases were petulant, and the pantry was fragrant. We all ate from the same melting pot, passing each other stories and memories from across the table. Celebrations were abundant and introducing oneself became redundant; there were so many people from everywhere doing everything! At one of these events, I met a boy from Football Town who told me about an organization solving some problems and was wondering if I would like to join such an organization. I thought having some sort of income on the side will help my expedition.

I signed up and began working within a couple of days. The environment this organization existed in was unlike any I’d seen before. A bunch of young players playing a game together and building a machine to make life better. I was enthralled. I became part of a new group of characters that operated in their own unique ways. I learned and I earned. Life would change every week, that was the timeline The Organization functioned on. That became my life. I took different roles throughout my tenure there, from delivering care packages to civilians to onboarding more players onto our ship. Throughout this journey, I met some memorable companions, saw some great sights, fought some fair fights, and evolved parts of my being through it all. But as most things come with flip-sides, this opportunity came with a flip-side too. I was so enamored by intellectual caliber and monetary incentives that I lost sight of my vision. I got comfortable with the idea of delaying my dreams. The need to tell stories was not a priority. Working with The Organization allowed me to extend my stay in The Dreamland, my pursuits of passion were paused to sustain my survival. The worst part is that I did not seem to mind it. I did create a few visual stories, but not nearly enough to call myself a storyteller. An unexpected jolt warped me out of The Organization and I made my way back into The Dreamland, although, this time it looked much different. The air was clearer and the roads were cleaner. My frame looked sharper than it did a few years ago, not as foggy as it was before.

It took me a few weeks to realize it, but parting ways with The Organization was the best thing that could have happened to me. The environment had become too familiar. The age-old need to move was showing face again. I had to answer its call; look at myself and make a conscious decision.

Full-time creator and storyteller. It was a daunting decision to make and it took me some time to make this decision. I sought to work for some other organization and thought about running after incentives again. It felt wrong to pursue this path. It felt like pursuing a side quest as the main mission. I snapped back to the correct timeline, having learned and earned through the challenges I faced with The Organization.

It’s time to start.

Some context before you begin.

I moved into The Promised Land, finally leaving my birthplace and landing in a place where I was reborn.

I made many unconscious decisions throughout my upbringing, allowing life to have its way with me until I decided to get out and change the scene. I’d never ventured into another nation, never explored any distant lands. All I knew was my milieu; my frame of reference was limited by the boundaries set by devils and their dogmas. Escaping was the only choice.

When I couldn’t reach out to a friend, I’d reach for the remotes. With a click of a button, I’d be transported to different realms with ethereal characters. I devoured everything that the screens had to offer, from dystopian planets engulfed in existential wars to chipmunks saving the day, from running as a criminal in a city to managing sports teams, I ate it all up. My plate was full of stories and scenarios from all over the world, across the galaxies and the universe. The stories consumed me as much as I consumed them. They gave me lessons and learnings, which I weaved into threads of tales for anyone listening.

I didn’t have a way with words back then, so I relied on drawings to tell my stories. A barren, empty page was my best friend. I filled it with strips of short stories and characters that danced in my head, crying to be let out onto the pages. I drew from imagination and drew for recreation. As the years went by, shapes turned into lines and lines turned into words. The creations manifested themselves as drawings that transformed into paragraphs, which morphed into pixels that eventually walked over to the screens. Somewhere along the way, I forgot about this affinity to create. Too many distractions and numbing agents spoiled the fun.

However, as soon as my feet touched the ground of The Promised Land, it all came rushing back to me. The whiff of hope in the air whispered into my ears, reminding me of my lost passions. I wandered around neighboring cities for a month before heading over to The Dreamland. I was on cloud ninety-nine. I’d dreamed of this place in my sleep, searched for it in my nightmares; I was exactly where I was meant to be. The Dreamland was just like it was depicted in the stories I saw, read, and heard.

I was granted entry into The Promised Land on the pretense of institutional education. This world had its own rules and regulations, but at least it was more straightforward than the one I’m from. This one operates on a simple Pay-to-Play structure, fueled by monetary incentives and intellectual caliber. It was unsettling at first, seeing all these leveled-up players running amok the streets and achieving great feats. I had a lot of catching up to do and a lot of points to gain. A couple of days of the week were reserved to play to the tunes of The Institution, while the rest were meant to explore The Dreamland. I met other characters on their journeys who told me tales of their worlds, spoke in alien tongues, and taught me their ways. I was mesmerized by the number of experiences and situations they were part of.

I met most of these characters in The Hall, a breeding ground of foreign beings from around the globe. The rooms were old, the staircases were petulant, and the pantry was fragrant. We all ate from the same melting pot, passing each other stories and memories from across the table. Celebrations were abundant and introducing oneself became redundant; there were so many people from everywhere doing everything! At one of these events, I met a boy from Football Town who told me about an organization solving some problems and was wondering if I would like to join such an organization. I thought having some sort of income on the side will help my expedition.

I signed up and began working within a couple of days. The environment this organization existed in was unlike any I’d seen before. A bunch of young players playing a game together and building a machine to make life better. I was enthralled. I became part of a new group of characters that operated in their own unique ways. I learned and I earned. Life would change every week, that was the timeline The Organization functioned on. That became my life. I took different roles throughout my tenure there, from delivering care packages to civilians to onboarding more players onto our ship. Throughout this journey, I met some memorable companions, saw some great sights, fought some fair fights, and evolved parts of my being through it all. But as most things come with flip-sides, this opportunity came with a flip-side too. I was so enamored by intellectual caliber and monetary incentives that I lost sight of my vision. I got comfortable with the idea of delaying my dreams. The need to tell stories was not a priority. Working with The Organization allowed me to extend my stay in The Dreamland, my pursuits of passion were paused to sustain my survival. The worst part is that I did not seem to mind it. I did create a few visual stories, but not nearly enough to call myself a storyteller. An unexpected jolt warped me out of The Organization and I made my way back into The Dreamland, although, this time it looked much different. The air was clearer and the roads were cleaner. My frame looked sharper than it did a few years ago, not as foggy as it was before.

It took me a few weeks to realize it, but parting ways with The Organization was the best thing that could have happened to me. The environment had become too familiar. The age-old need to move was showing face again. I had to answer its call; look at myself and make a conscious decision.

Full-time creator and storyteller. It was a daunting decision to make and it took me some time to make this decision. I sought to work for some other organization and thought about running after incentives again. It felt wrong to pursue this path. It felt like pursuing a side quest as the main mission. I snapped back to the correct timeline, having learned and earned through the challenges I faced with The Organization.

It’s time to start.