Humans are twisted creatures. They have a definite span of life, not like they are going to live and suffer till the end of the world. Still they fear. They accept things given to them without questioning. Maybe they don’t really care or maybe they are just that ignorant. It is knowledge. Knowledge with proof of its being, seems like a logical thing to them, but knowledge without proof is just mystical. They are told that their life might be difficult if they do not follow the rules, rules made by humans themselves. So we accept, we accept that knowledge, and fear to question it.

They say I am heartless, that I don’t feel what others feel or are supposed to feel. Today when I stand at the edge of this tallest peak, I ask myself are all those feelings even necessary? What if I don’t feel longing? What if I don’t feel care? Is it really that important to survive? After all, the end result of all this struggle, all this becoming great in nature, is to survive. I am still alive. Maybe I don’t have feeling like them but I do have one thing which they do not possess, I have the freedom of thought. Freedom to think what I want and I am not forced by someone else’s thoughts. They think I don’t feel scared, because they have nearly considered me to be so unhuman, and, being scared, it is supposed to be a mundane thing. But let me tell them today, I do feel scared. I feel scared of losing myself to them. Losing myself in this world so huge it is easy to get lost, to forget about my being.


It’s happening to me now, after all this time I think I am losing my being, my reason to survive. I have always thought that a person without reason in life is a person who loses his life. For me surviving has always being struggle, struggle to reach my goals, reach that one place which will give me my next reason. Today I have nothing to struggle for. Maybe because I can’t leave this place. I am bound here. This small room contains nothing but single book which reads, “Losing yourself.” It’s kept because they want me to know where I reach every day, the level of my insanity. When I had freedom to roam around, I did things which according to them were against humanism. I killed. I always had a weapon with me then, it felt lively to kill someone. The screams would awaken my mind which tended to sleep quite often. It gave me feelings, it gave me happiness. The day I was caught, I did not struggle to escape, I only smiled. They declared I was a sadist. I couldn’t deny. I try to track the time when I die. I think it’s near because I do not feel alive anymore.

This room is so different. It has a door which is locked and, exactly opposite to that door, instead of a wall there is a huge hole. I know death will find me as soon as I cross that hole. Every day, I stand at the edge of the room, I have tried to move that one inch every time but for some reason I have never had. I am scared, not without feelings after all. Instead I just sit in the corner, far from that hole, the only dark place in the room, I take that book in my hand and I read.