I saw my killing reflection in the mirror, up there thousands of feet above sea level, hours away from the human plague. Minutes away from any other parasite. Totally alone, by myself. Asphyxia by hanging in the woods. I saw the beauty of the totality of existence capped on a snow covered mountain, away from everyone. I saw this years before it is to occur. I broke down and cried as it juxtaposed a brutal realization that I am but an insect and I am attracted to but a flower. Angry at the flower for its qualities - projecting my self-hatred from an insectoid level. My thoughts are the disease. My will never existed. I'm trapped in this crevasse, tempted to cut my legs off to get away from the dehumanizing play. I am stuck in motion, bouncing from point of failure to point of attempt. I want you because I love you. I love you because I want you. I want this because it is delicious. If only you could experience yourself, but you are trapped inside your own body. You think you know yourself, but you'll never get to know yourself as I have. Inside looking out, you lose any appreciation for the greater physique. The implications of your learned behaviors. The totality of your motions and movements. Anything lost on me would be lost on you too. All my fears are predicated on bereavement; I cannot lose this because I'll never have it again. I remember to bring a sample of the flower to you, because I want you to know how thoroughly I have lost it. You inhale, as I cry, and you'll never know what I'm crying about. How truly devastating it is. The injustice continued for some more hours as I still had yet to come to the akmen. In due time, I made it. I wasted a good hour at this point, crying and contemplating my very existence. Life and death. Being able to jump and never see a thing again, never know pain or pleasure or the trials and tribulations of being stuck in a body that refuses sleep with a mind that begs for it. The beauty of solitude included continued isolation as I reversed every step I took, in a means to preserve and reverse the course of destiny. I failed, and am still in the continuum. I did not escape, and I was so close to freedom. I shall never know what free will is, because I never had it. Though, in effect, I do believe i had a vague notion... the only point is the voluntary termination of pain. There is rigidity, there is peace. The suffering is extinguished. All sensation invalid to the remaining object. Here I reached the conclusion that all has been planned, all is set in motion, for I'm travelling on a missile headed through a great void, and somewhere on the very head of the missile where life continues without me, i abandoned it all. I am not living life, it is living me.
