Chapter 1: A Relentless Distraction

Lately, I find myself struggling to accomplish even the simplest tasks. My fingers are always in motion, I often act impulsively, and focusing on anything feels nearly impossible. It might sound like I'm describing Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD), but that's not the case. The truth is, I can't concentrate or unwind because I'm being relentlessly pursued by individuals from the future intent on taking my life.

Self-diagnosis can be perilous, leading to a negative spiral that can amplify troubling thoughts and feelings that might otherwise fade away. I notice this in the posts shared by friends on social media, and it genuinely saddens me. However, do you know what poses an even greater risk? The sudden appearance of a stranger emerging from a miniature black hole in my living room, brandishing a futuristic weapon and shouting nonsensical phrases. Good luck trying to hit your productivity targets with that kind of threat looming over you!

“I apologize for being late to our meeting. As I was heading out, a time traveler appeared, and I had to engage in intense hand-to-hand combat to defend myself.” Sending that email feels like an act of desperation.

“Why can't he just admit he has ADHD like everyone else?” I can almost hear my colleagues whispering. The indicators are obvious, but only if you don't take into account that I'm being stalked by these temporal assassins. It might seem like I struggle with time management, but I'm merely thwarting assassination attempts. My mood swings—from the anxiety of potential death to the joy of overcoming threats, and then spiraling into despair over the futuristic blood on my hands—are all a result of this chaos. Yes, I’m increasingly irritable and struggling with stress, but I assure you, it’s not ADHD; it’s these goo-covered adversaries from the future trying to end my life.

Oh, how I wish I could provide evidence to prove my point, but that's simply impossible. The moment I strike one of them down, they are consumed by a dark mass and whisked back to their own time, perhaps some sort of paradox eraser. All that's left behind is a few puddles of the viscous goo they arrive with. A significant annoyance during these assassination attempts is when they materialize inside my car—it's really damaging its resale value.

Initially, these future attackers were clever and stealthy. I could feel their presence stalking me for weeks; they would blend into the background, study my habits, and choose the perfect moment to strike—like when I was on the toilet. I don’t mean to brag, but they are surprisingly easy to defeat, even without weapons. I suspect that the future lacks nutritious food options; let's just say that. Recently, however, their strategy has devolved into a disorganized “bukkake” approach, sending random, untrained attackers—often naked—who are eager to kill me.

This leads me to ponder: what came first, the emergence of these neo-brutes or my dwindling attention span? I used to be an avid reader, devouring books for hours. Now, I struggle to read a single paragraph without losing focus and having to reread it multiple times. “I should check my phone,” “I need to watch another TikTok,” “I must stay alert in case a time traveler bursts in to kill me.” These compulsive habits have become so ingrained that I reach for my phone (or my makeshift weapon) without even realizing it. Reflecting on the past, was I always multitasking? What did I juggle before I was constantly preparing my home against gooey intruders, checking my concealed weapon, or sharpening my knives? I feel like I’m busy all the time, yet I achieve nothing.

I have no clue what these time travelers want from me. How did I become the pivotal figure for the future? I’m just an ordinary person, minding my own business. But who knows how history will interpret my life? This simple man, laboring in a lab to make time travel a reality, has somehow attracted a bounty on his head from a time so distant that I can hardly imagine what their sky looks like.

Oh no, I think I hear something upstairs.

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