It’s difficult to put into words the weight of what I’ve become, a boy without a name from a place that’s now just a memory. I’ve lost everything—my home, my identity, and the warmth of familiarity. As I traverse this unforgiving journey, thoughts linger about the possibility of my own demise. In a group of a hundred, we’re reduced to mere thirties, survivors in a sea of tragedy.

I wonder, will anyone remember me? In the chaos that surrounds us, will my existence be lost forever? The burden of these thoughts weighs heavy on my young shoulders. It’s a reflection beyond my years, a realization that I’ve aged beyond my age. As the days unfold, I find myself questioning the purpose of this arduous journey, the reason I set out in the first place.

In response to this uncertainty, I’ve decided to leave behind a journal at every stop, a testament to my existence. A record that I, too, was alive in this tumultuous world. The fear of being just another forgotten victim propels me to inscribe my story on the pages of survival.

As I sit in solitude, contemplating my purpose, I’m determined not to remain nameless. The boy who sought a world that perhaps never existed deserves more than to fade into obscurity. I envision reuniting with Dad, Joan, Lu, Uncle Dajiki, and Aunti Grace. But to do so, I must showcase my strength, not lying defeated on the floor. This is my moment, my chance to define who I am.

With trembling hands, I sign this entry.....