Once upon a time I attempted to live a life of normalcy in the vein of what others expected of me and told me to do. I mirrored everything I could observe, everything I could perform, but some disquiet part of myself always told me this was a lie and that it cut deeper and more sincerely than anything else. Moreover, it foretold me that living this lie, this illusion of self, would spell doom. Fool as I was, trying to be what the world expected of me, I buried this foreboding sentiment deep away. I piled upon it all of my self, my very core of identity, all traded for what I was told everything should be. But still and yet, I could hear this unspoken voice, this ethereal sensation that all of this was not right. I agreed, of course, although I persisted in pandering and trying to do as was "normal".

Not only did I fail, I failed more miserably and terribly in it than anything else in my life. So great and horribly so that the existence of this period in my life is almost entirely stricken from me; only the basest of emotions survived. It was as though one day I went to sleep, fallen into coma, and heard only the distant cries of those who tried to rouse me from my slumber. I have never experienced a more prolonged - years worth - period of subliminal anger, truthfully rage, stirred together with vehement self-loathing and spite, hopelessness beyond any comparison I have confronted; even in my number of deaths before revival, the place thereafter in an equally unconscious dark was truly better, more peaceful, perfect even and anything but this. So much so that when I broke free of it, it was as if I had awakened from that restless slumber.

I realized only some years later, many now, that I had almost put myself upon the altar, all to sacrifice everything I was and could be just for the sake of fleeting approval and comfort in this world. I had nearly killed the self, the very heart and soul. All to just live as the rest of the world, all to appease the rest of everyone and everything else. But for some reason, when I went back to the heart after my illusion - all the lies lived - were torn down, I said "No, no more."

The purpose of this story is that I at times wonder what would have become of me if I betrayed my nature, had I murdered the spirit for the sake of society. Where might I just be, if at all? When I reflect upon what I am now it only makes me to wonder if there was more intent on intervening, preventing me from doing all the things I ultimately needed to.

I will add in addendum that what brought this back to me was mere reflection. I often say I live a life of no regrets and here I find this one particular portion of the narrative an excellent example. I regret, not for a moment, forgetting the rest of the world.