Capítulo 1: Little One
<INSTANCE_1>
A figure stepped out from the cabin, his mind racing through thoughts and contradictions. Confusion and understanding mingled in his chest, creating a complicated knot of emotions. He felt it all—the stark contrast between what had happened and what he had expected. A moment of clarity eluded him.
His psychiatrist had suggested that he make the online payment for his medication. But, after the repeated insistence from the receptionist, he felt pressured to pay at that very moment, even though he had initially proposed paying later. That simple exchange—of him wanting to make a payment after the appointment—had somehow not been conveyed to the doctor.
His thoughts were muddled with the desire to argue or defend himself, but before he could utter a word, another wave of reflection washed over him. Was it worth defending himself so swiftly? Would it serve any purpose? Was it truly necessary to immediately react to something as inconsequential as a simple misunderstanding?
Why do I feel the need to defend myself so quickly over such trivial things? he thought. Would that make me any better than the mistakes I've seen my father make over and over?
These internal questions ran rampant through his mind. A slow, distorted passage of time seemed to stretch before him. His inner dialogue collided with deeper reflections. Would defending himself add any value, or would it only entrench him in a cycle of repeating mistakes? His response—his reaction—could shape the narrative of his existence.
He hesitated. He wanted to speak up, to correct the situation, but he didn't. Maybe that was what everyone faced, every day. A choice—always a choice—between reacting or letting things unfold as they were meant to.
And then a voice inside him, almost an external whisper, said, "Little one, remember this: You must read, you must learn, for the path to understanding requires the willingness to step into it."
<INSTANCE_2>
The phone rang, breaking the moment of silence. With a heavy sigh, he grabbed the device, biting into an apple as he answered. The voice on the other side was urgent. A malfunction in the propulsion machinery. A construction issue at the site.
He immediately felt the stirrings of several instincts, all fighting for dominance. The impulsive side of him spoke first, asking, "So, what should I do?"
Empathy quietly followed, murmuring, "It's okay. Understand their situation. Put yourself in their shoes for a moment."
Rationality took the stage with calm efficiency, urging him to focus on a solution. Look for a fix, it said. It's your responsibility. Do the best job you can.
A dozen responses ran through his mind, but in the end, the decision became simple. His voice spilled out, "Okay, so what can we do to fix this?"
The conversation ended, and after some deliberation, it became clear that no immediate solution was available. Still, he couldn't sit idle. He decided to head to the site himself, after a brief lunch.
At the Site:
Upon arriving, he found out the worker hadn't had the chance to take a lunch break. He decided to go and fetch tea for the crew but wrestled internally with the decision of whether to also get lunch for the worker. There was a choice to make. He wondered, was he being empathetic? Or was this a gesture expecting something in return, an unspoken trade? Or was this just the simple act of kindness that sometimes emerged spontaneously?
The question lingered, but the decision seemed to come easily this time. He brought lunch. Why? He never could quite figure it out. Was it kindness? Was it self-interest? Or was it a random intersection of both?
As he drove away, the thought remained, unresolved but persistent. The complexity of the human heart and mind was not easily unraveled. Perhaps the purity of emotion didn't exist at all, he mused. Instead, it was always a blend—a mix of motivations, some pure, others impure, but all tangled together in the fabric of human existence.
"There was no purity," he mused. "Such is the nature of our hearts, always mixed with contradictions—love and indifference, trust and doubt, chaos and order."
<INSTANCE_3>
Later, in another interaction, a conversation with a family member unraveled the ever-present conflict of expectations. She had told him, "Don't speak to me, all you do is teach all the time. Don't speak. I'm a big girl now."
He wasn't sure whether to laugh or feel insulted. Her words were clear, but his response remained uncertain. He politely replied, "Because it matters." But what did it matter? What was the point of trying to teach when she clearly didn't want it?
His thoughts spiraled again. He understood that she couldn't fully comprehend herself due to illness, that the world outside would not give her any grace. But what about him? He wanted to help, to offer solutions, but it seemed to always fall short.
He had provided a solution—a story—but it didn't change anything. All she wanted was to avoid the effort of understanding. She just wanted someone else to do the hard work and feed her the answers.
It was a familiar pattern—one he'd seen in others as well. People wanted things done for them, but they didn't want to do the work themselves. He wondered if this was a universal trait or just an example of human laziness. Was there ever a genuine desire to change, or was it always just an excuse to avoid discomfort?
In that moment, he realized what he wanted from her. It wasn't the work itself—it was the honesty. He didn't need her to perform the task; he needed her to acknowledge that sometimes avoiding responsibility only led to more problems. He hoped that, through this lesson, she would understand the importance of being truthful about her limitations, rather than using excuses.
But the cycle continued. Requests for perfection after assigning work to others. He understood why it bothered his mother, but could he change anything? Or were people simply doomed to repeat these behaviors, driven by habits and instincts?
The real question that nagged him: Are we all being manipulated by some greater will, or are we simply prisoners of our own choices?
<INSTANCE_4>
The questions never stopped. The haze of confusion hung over him like a fog that was growing thicker by the moment. He was exhausted. His body felt like it was about to give out, but he kept pushing forward. Another day, another series of thoughts and contradictions.
As he drove, listening to music, the lyrics spun around in his head. A rapper spoke words that seemed strange to him. Is it really okay to rap like that? he asked himself. Is it acceptable to question the things that seem out of place?
But then, he forgot. He forgot the questions, and the music, and everything else that had consumed his thoughts. There was a lingering feeling, though—of fatigue, of laziness, of a strange and deep tiredness that had seeped into his very bones.
Where did it come from? Was it just mental fatigue? Or was it something deeper? Something more intangible? Something metaphysical?
And again, the question returned: Was it him, or was it the world?
At that moment, he realized the truth—there were no answers. Only more questions. The answers themselves were elusive, just as the mysteries of his existence remained hidden.
He closed his eyes and sighed, "What will become of me? What will become of the world?"
But there was no answer. There never was.
PENSAMENTOS DOS CRIADORES 
BrawlingSlug
BrawlingSlug This is just the start. It will develop from multiple perspectives. It encompasses the mixing of realms, dreams, my world and the real one we live in.
This work of mine aims to guide me and you all who read through the realms and woven threads of reality to imagination that we all see or for the lack of a better word Experience.
I hope everbody who starts to read my work to slowly but surely read at the very least 10 to 15 chapters, inculcate and cultivate the same in your own being.
Yours truly
~ Brawling Slug.
Status de energia semanal
-- Ranking de
Poder 
-- Pedra de
Poder