On Becoming Nothing

The night was lonely and dense and contained but a single path leading to the deeper wilderness. It was the looking into a mirror and seeing only the pooling darkness of my mind. By the window the crickets rioted. I was held captive by my fears and a vague subversive mantra for my own destruction. But as the sun creeps slowly over the hills and through the trees, and the birds chirping pierce the gloom of the stricken air, I do now think I understand.

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