On screen, a cursor moved with rhythmic hesitation. It hovered over a "Submit" button on a university application portal. February 17th. He remembered that day. It was the morning he decided to change everything, recorded in 1080p by a free version of Bandicam he’d downloaded just to capture the moment of truth.
“If you’re watching this later, I hope you’re happy.” bandicam 2023-02-17 06-07-46-795.mp4
He clicked play. The screen flickered to life, showing a grainy desktop wallpaper of a nebula. In the bottom-right corner, the system clock confirmed the time: 6:07 AM. A quiet hum of a PC fan bled through the audio—the sound of a cold winter morning before the rest of the world woke up. On screen, a cursor moved with rhythmic hesitation
The video didn't show his face, but the way the cursor shook revealed the nerves he had long since forgotten. He watched his past self click the button. A green checkmark appeared. Then, the cursor moved to a notepad file on the desktop. A single sentence was typed out, letter by letter: He remembered that day