Like poetry, in a moment of weakness, it overwhelmed me. I started laughing, imagining the world being bombarded with black seared boulders by these beings. I don't think they have done anything though.

Having seen all of that, could they hold back? Could I, If I were them? ... Why did I suddenly care? I craved to have my hunger back, and food and taste! Didn't I?

But I remember being in their head as they were slaughtered and tortured and held captive. For what? I watched my kind enslave and kill for me.

I never saw it this way before and I could not think of a time when I questioned this practice. All of it is just there! In the restaurant, at the supermarket, in a snack, at every food place I know. It looked so clean and painless, all foil-wrapped or served with sides, dips and salads.

I thought I was generally a good guy, a nice person. I helped people in need and donated to charities but I never questioned the morality of where my food came from. Vegetarians, Vegans? Didn't they do it because it's healthier or disliked the taste of meat? I could never see it.

Oh! But I survived a plane crash and I killed for food just a while ago... Learned to hunt with my father and it became a

bonding experience, a sport. I always slew them without consideration.

What am I doing? What am I even trying to justify? I killed and I saw myself being killed thousands of times. It could have been me that held the knife in those visions. Emotionless eyes and all. The animals were not worth my worry, they were food. Food, and skin and wool ... entertainment, tools, resources and test subjects.

I couldn't think of it anymore; I didn't want to. It was all too much and my sobbing did not quiet my mind, did not make it better.

If there was something to go back to, and if I somehow got there, I'd have to change ... but I didn't want to do that either! My favourite thing to do would be tainted. My method of coping with the world would be a source of distress.
I didn't want to go back, not to my world. I would stay with the bald people. I could finally fit right in.

My insides were filled with rot; my hands were stained. Laying down, staring at my palms, I knew I would not get up any time soon.

I was soaked and dripping with guilt. It weighed me down.

Burbling green blanketed over me and I drowned willingly.