“Why to try? Why to live, why to go on, why to strive? I wonder. I am alive, through no wish of my own, and I continue to be. Love, my, fabled, dear, emotion, has not chanced upon me, nor seek I it. An aspiration then perhaps? Some existing of higher being that I wish to achieve? Unlikely. My existence is mechanical. Like I am a programmer creating code to function in the environment. Perhaps this is it then? As a living creature, I seek to exist for that itself? That to keep living is my inner goal, aspiration; that to create a self that functions better? No, rather it would seem as if my challenge, I say, is to thwart expectations, manipulate my environment, and hide. Perhaps I am like a murderer, a killer who disposes of lives, simply to lead the police to a dead end. I live, for a puzzle, a challenge, if you will, to test my, abilities. That, it appears, is all my existence. But, then again, perhaps I am better than that, and I am a puzzle within itself. I fear that this trickery is the sole vice of my existence, that I fooled myself. I fear nothing in this world, and my resolve is unshakeable. I can’t see anything that could outdo my insanity, so have nothing I to fear. But suddenly, I fear myself. That is true terror.”

The End

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