July 16th, 1800
...
For nine generations, I lived in that house.
Now, what's left of my house and the people who lived in it is dust that crumbles between my fingers.
And, as I wait in here, sitting under the rain until the day my house is rebuilt, I learned nothing. And I shall not learn anything. There's nothing new to learn, I have no desire to learn and I prefer to be this way.
And I don't even remember my name, who I used to be, the kind of life I had before everything came down... Oh, who am I kidding, the person I look at in the puddle beneath my toes is supposed to be me, which doesn't mean it's the better half of me I'm staring at. I wish I was dumb. It's not something you hear others wish to be, but that's what I want to be, loud and clear. I want to be dumb so I can forget I no longer have a tail, and a Burmecian without a tail is an abomination of nature. I don't want to drink to forget like many do, I don't smoke and I hate staying near those who do it. I can't stand the scent of alcohol and tobacco, they make me feel sick but no one else seems to mind, and who else with their minds somewhere else would in such conditions?
I am tired of running, I'm tired all the time. A burnt skin can heal with time, but only lizards can grow their tails back. As for mine, it's gone forever alongside my dignity, my humility, my shame.