In the past, I rarely believed in my own abilities, so no matter what goals I set, whether large or small, they seemed like nothing more than foolish endeavors. I used to think, if my abilities are so limited, what is the use of making plans? Consequently, I stepped into the world each day in a state of confusion, without direction or guidance, merely drifting along and mistakenly believing I was waiting for my luck to change—even though I never truly believed my future would differ from my past. I wandered day by day; it required no skill, no effort, and brought no pain. Conversely, setting daily goals, weekly plans, and monthly directions, then striving every day to achieve them, required a heavy price. I was accustomed to telling myself that I would start working hard tomorrow, unaware that tomorrow only exists in the calendars of fools. I was ignorant of my own foolishness; were it not for these parchments, I would have wasted my life in idleness, procrastinating until it was too late. Yet, being late and being too late are actually quite different.