I’m a bug now. A long one that eats grass.

 

But most importantly, I’m a bug. Not a bull.

 

Most importantly, I’m a bug. Not something of significance.

 

Most importantly, I’m a bug. Irrelevant.

 

I can move. I can feel. I can smell. I can taste. I can still think.

 

But I’m a bug. 

 

So why does it matter?

 

Is this the equality and fairness of animals that New Minor talked about? Is this the gift that us animals deserve for carrying out such useless lives? Do we just live on and die to simply become useless once more? Are our lives just useless? Is it a cycle that doesn’t get any better?

 

What did we do to deserve such a punishment?

 

Is this the paradise that bird explained to all of us? To have endless amounts of food and be in the best state we can be. Is this it? Is this the paradise? Is it a paradise if I am now something so irrelevant in the grand scheme of it all?

 

What did we do to deserve such a punishment?

 

Why do I have to see the world for what it was? 

 

Why do I need to be able to think this hard? Why can’t I just eat grass like the rest instead of having to worry about these big things?

 

Life was so simple before death. 

 

Now I have to worry about being eaten.

 

No. The cycle will just repeat.

 

Birds eat bugs. I’ll become a bird. Bigger birds will eat a bird. I’ll become a bigger bird.

 

What happens after that is beyond me; all of this has been beyond me.

 

 But, if I really think about it, life is just suffering, and there’s nothing we can do about it. We’re all just strung into a herd and made to follow this game, eat whatever the mysterious hand feeds us and be on our way.

 

There’s no escape. So why fight? Why contemplate?

 

Why even think?

 

Yes, I think I’m just going to stop thinking. 

 

I’m not intelligent. I’m just like every other animal I know.

 

Dumb.

 

Dumb animals following dumbly to dumb tricks and leading dumb lives: that’s what life is.

 

I’m just dumb, and I’m happy to stay that way.

 

It’s almost like I’m back at square one again when I am not really the same as I was before. I used to be dumb, and now I’m dumb again. 

 

It came back to bite me, so is this my punishment for thinking?

 

Who cares. Who cares anymore.

 

I’ll just try to survive, and live until I can truly stop thinking and die. Die a natural death that takes me to paradise without any thinking.

 

That’s all I ask.

 

Because, in this mundane life where the herd and I contribute nothing, we just follow the rules and eat the grass we’re given. 

 

No questions asked whatsoever.

 

We just stay grounded and accept our stupidity; accept that I’m not Triple-A.

I was never Triple A.