I'm Not a Regressor, Chapter 1: The Unexpected Regression
The flickering fluorescent lights of the convenience store buzzed overhead, a discordant soundtrack to the gnawing anxiety in my gut. Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the storm brewing inside me. I, Jian, a perfectly ordinary college student with a penchant for ramen and a crippling fear of public speaking, was supposedly…regressing.
According to the cryptic, handwritten note I’d found tucked into my worn copy of One Hundred Years of Solitude (a gift from my eccentric grandmother, naturally), I was reliving my life, backwards. Each day, I'd regress further into my past, until I returned to my infancy. The note, stained with what I suspected was tea, offered no solutions, only a chilling warning: "Embrace the paradox, or be lost in the echo."
This…wasn't how I envisioned my Tuesday night.
What is a regressor?
This is the million-dollar question, isn't it? The note didn't define the term, leaving me to scour the internet with frantic fingers. The results were… unhelpful. Most searches yielded information about statistical regression, a far cry from reliving my life in reverse. One forum mentioned a fringe theory about temporal anomalies, but the posts were riddled with conspiracy theories and dubious claims of alien involvement. Ultimately, the internet provided little clarity, only deepening my confusion and escalating my sense of dread.
How do I know if I'm a regressor?
This is where things get truly bizarre. The note didn’t offer a checklist or diagnostic criteria. My “symptoms,” if you could call them that, were subtle at first. A feeling of déjà vu, intensified to the point of overwhelming familiarity, accompanied by a vague sense of…wrongness. Things felt off, like a slightly out-of-tune piano. Then came the memories. Not just ordinary memories, but memories I shouldn't have. Memories from yesterday, from last week, even from my childhood, all flooding back with an intensity that felt almost painful.
What happens when you regress?
That's precisely what I'm trying to figure out. The note hinted at a potential "loss" – a consequence of failing to "embrace the paradox." Does that mean I'll vanish entirely? Will I be trapped in an endless loop? Or is it something even more terrifying? The uncertainty was a gnawing pressure, a constant hum of dread that underscored my every action.
Is regression reversible?
According to the limited information I’ve managed to glean, the answer seems to be a resounding…maybe. The note suggests a way out: embracing the paradox. But what does that even mean? Is it some kind of philosophical acceptance? A specific action I need to take? Or is it something else entirely? The mystery is a heavy weight, pressing down on me, hindering my attempts to unravel this unsettling enigma.
The rain outside intensified. I shivered, not entirely from the cold. My life, as I knew it, was unraveling, and I was desperately searching for a thread, a clue, anything that could help me navigate this chaotic, terrifying regression. Tomorrow – or rather, yesterday – will likely bring more answers, or perhaps, more questions. Either way, I'm ready. Or at least, I'm trying to be.
