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Autobiography: A Journey Through Time
The autobiographical narrative is a classic genre. It implies that the protagonist's life is of interest—a notion that often strikes me as bordering on brazen boastfulness. Many of us have spent our lives merely earning a living, and that time is not necessarily of great interest. Yet, it seems to me that I occasionally managed to break free from the constraints of the hardworking teacher to experience moments of discovery worth recounting.
Where to begin? One could start with birth. While that moment was surely one of vibrant intensity, I retain no memory of it. It seems more fitting to start at the end. A bank statement lists your most recent transactions. Our existence, too, is written first in the present tense. I experience periods when memories and emotions resurface—like bubbles rising from a submerged object. I want to capture them before they vanish... before writing the word "The End"? Writing "The End"—a habit that is fading away.