Thinking back, I can't quite point out where it all began and when or even how. My life before "this" is just a vague memory that fades away more and more every day. I remember the day I was consoling myself saying, "I can't go back. This is for the best". Even then, I didn't realize why my thoughts were spiraling into a mass of unknown.

I envy Yozo in that matter. He knows the life he lived very well. He knows there could have been a difference. I can't imagine any other life but the one I had.

My family wasn't doing too bad. We weren't the richest folks and we lived in a small town but we were a famous bunch. We were the epitome of happiness, exactly what a family should be like. My father, back then, was a cop. An inspector, to be precise, and he was a big deal in town. His sense of heartless justice--not something he was famous for, but something I'd seen in him all too often-- earned him hatred in the years to come.

I was a funny child. People couldn't hold laughter around me. That was me, free-spirited, careless, innocent. Everyone loved teasing me, I'm a very teasable person. But no matter what anyone said, it never seemed to bother me. I didn't cry much and I wasn't a bratty kid. I don't remember having many toys, some hand me downs from my siblings but nothing I was too crazy about. My childhood, as I would sum it up, was very normal. I was an intelligent kid, acting like a fool all the time. But at the end of it all, I was able to laugh with others.

In reality, I was seeking approval, a place to belong, every laugh, every jest was just a means to sate my thirst for attention. I wanted to be told that I was loved, that I was important.

The adult world was easy, wrapped around my finger just like that. I had no problem deceiving anyone. Because I was innocent, I could be anything. I didn't like it when others gossiped and lied, maybe because I felt that was all reserved for me. I really thought that everyone believed my deception. Only now...its a very subtle feeling of shame, quite hilarious too.

I think back in the day, I had it all figured out. Yet when I look at it critically, I realize I haven't changed at all. Did the little me feel the same? I can't seem to recall.

I keep questioning myself if that's where it had all begun. Is "this" something I was born with? Or is it something I became on my own? Is "this" me?

Yozo had the answer. It wasn't the alcohol, it wasn't the monster in his paintings either. It wasn't the whores, nor the maids in his house. For Yozo, it all began with the lion mask.