The dim, pale light from a smartphone flickered inside a dark apartment, casting a somber glow across the room's disarray. Amidst the darkness, a young man lay sprawled on his bed, surrounded by discarded textbooks and empty takeout containers, a reflection of the chaos that had become his life. He is a student, or was, at least, who had spent years and years buried in his studies, nurturing the hope that it would give him the spark, the opportunity, to make something of himself. However, despite accumulating degrees and certifications, instead of the bright and promising life he had anticipated, he had instead found himself ensnared in a relentless cycle of debt, condemned to lead a mundane, monotonous, boring existence.
The young man lies motionless on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling while his phone rests flat upon his chest. Just moments ago, he had finished reading a particularly captivating piece of Dragon Ball fanfiction. This beloved franchise had been an integral part of his childhood; in fact, it can be said that his childhood has been defined by the adventures of the Saiyan warrior Goku and his friends. The otherworldly battles, the colorful landscapes, and the endless possibilities of that fictional universe had captured his heart and dazzled his mind. It was a world where the impossible became possible, where heroes always rose to face and overcome insurmountable odds.
As he grew older, the unrelenting pressures of the real world gradually dampened his youthful optimism. He had come to the realization that life didn't always adhere to the narrative of his childhood stories, and despite his best efforts, he couldn't always be the hero who overcame all obstacles. However, despite all of the numerous discouraging results and failures he encountered, the stories of Goku and the Z Fighters burned just as brightly as they had in his memories. They became his refuge—a bright sanctuary from the gray, mundane reality that threatened to swallow him.
He gazed out of the small, grimy window, where the city's neon lights flickered in the distance. In the calmness of the night, he couldn't help but wonder if there was more to life than this ceaseless monotony. He had always felt as if he was born in the wrong world—a world that lacked the vibrancy and excitement of the stories he cherished. Oh, how he wished he was in those stories, just think of the things he can do there!
"If a world like that truly exists," he murmured softly, "then I really was born into the wrong one."
But he was not in that world, because here he was, lying on a worn bed in a dingy apartment, feeling the euphoria from the world beyond letters and words draining from him, leaving behind an aching but familiar emptiness. He lies there unmoving, feeling the harsh reality of adulthood pressing down on him. He flips his phone up, the dim light illuminating his face, the words ~ THE END ~ showing on the screen, words that he feels he has seen one too many times.
"The End," he said to himself, his voice barely more than a whisper.
He glanced at the corner of his phone. 1:56 AM, Sunday night. Well, technically Monday morning now. In just a few hours, he would have to drag himself out of bed to work once again. With a sigh, he placed his phone aside and turned off his screen, plunging himself into darkness, with only the distant city lights twinkling through his window.
"It's a nice dream," he mumbles, closing his eyes, "but reality awaits."
As he fell into the embrace of slumber, he couldn't help but wonder again how great it would be if he had truly woken up in the Dragon Ball Universe, to fight beside his childhood heroes. And with that beautiful dream on his mind, the young man drifted off to sleep.
Unbeknownst to him, his phone lights up once more, the words ~ THE END ~ still lingering on the screen. Then, slowly, as if someone was editing, the final two words of the published story began to disappear one letter at a time. In their place, was this:
~ THE BEGINNING ~