Chapter 7: Bullcrap
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I saw fire. I was getting burnt.

 

Now I’m in the air.

 

Floating.

 

Endlessly.

 

Just like life. We’re all just floating around from point A to point B in this endless loop. There’s no end point, right? We’re just continually in motion without really getting anywhere. 

 

Is it the same as purpose? Does purpose have a destination? 

 

Maybe the point of life is to suffer. Is that the same for humans? I’m not sure. I don’t think so.

 

Thinking all of this is hard. 

 

But I don’t have a head for it to hurt.

 

And I don’t need to eat grass.

 

I’m not worried.

 

Because I now know that soon I’ll end up back in the body of… maybe a bull or another animal.

 

Who knows.

 

Nobody knows what’s going to happen in this life. Well, apart from me. I have the intelligence to decipher this.

 

But I have this feeling that I’m not anything special. Because really, I just keep going back to the boring life that I’m used to.

 

So, even with a special mind, I just end up in a body trapped in this hell we call life.

 

What am I? Am I truly the only one that has this ability? I didn’t know before because probably no one died at that time.

 

I want to be special and leave this cycle. But I can’t. I really can’t. I can’t control the wheels of life.  I can’t control the wheels of death.

 

I’m not special.

 

I’m not special at all.

 

I’m just like the masses.

 

I’m just like the herd.

 

So I’m nothing. Like I am now.

 

I mean nothing.

 

I don’t contribute anything.

 

I’m just part of the air. 

 

Floating.

 

I’m floating around this world.

 

This bullcrap world that has done me no favors.

 

Done me no favors but give me grass.

 

Bullcrap.

 

Bullcrap.

 

Nothing matters. I don’t matter.

 

Bullcrap.

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