The absorption felt like trying to lift something impossibly heavy off the ground. But instead of straining my muscles or body, I was exerting something far deeper.
I poured all my will into it, forcing the assimilation to accelerate.
All my life, I've been confused…
Confused about the true nature of this world.
And above all else—my own identity.
What is the real difference between a human and any other animal?
Intelligence? Consciousness?
Have you ever wondered how consciousness truly comes into being? Not in some universal, abstract sense—but how you became conscious.
If you examine your own life closely, you'd realize something unsettling.
It wasn't natural.
You were guided into it—just like everyone before you.
Take, for example, a human child stranded on an isolated island. Suppose it somehow survives and grows into adulthood—without culture, without language, without any social interaction.
Would it be any different from an animal?
No.
In that situation, the ego would never be born. It would live purely on instinct—hunger, survival, nothing more. There would be no concept of past or future. No reflection. No identity.
And without an ego, fear would never evolve into existential dread.
That alone creates a world of difference.
Humans are conquerors—the most advanced species on this planet.
But why?
Is it our ability to create tools? To pass down knowledge? To exist in the past, present, and future all at once?
Those are just symptoms.
The real question is—what ties it all together?
The answer is simple.
Fear of death.
Humans are the only beings truly aware of their own mortality.
For other animals—or even that isolated child—death is just something that happens. There's no anticipation. No lingering dread. You cease to exist, and that's the end of it.
But for us…
It's not just the death of the body.
It's the death of the ego.
Everything we are—our love, our values, our hatred, our desires, our ambitions—wiped out in an instant.
When humans think about death, they rarely fear the physical end.
They fear something far worse—
The possibility that the "I"… might disappear.
Society is built upon that fear.
It amplifies it, shapes it, weaponizes it—turning us into cogs in a vast machine designed to keep itself running.
I used to hate that.
But eventually, I understood.
In its own way… it's a mercy.
Without the illusion of purpose, most people would lose their minds.
This… was my truth.
And truth always demands a price.
For me, it was the dissolution of identity.
Nothing was fixed anymore. No certainty remained—nothing I could cling to for comfort. No purpose to drive me forward.
The pain… the loneliness… those I could endure.
I'm not so fragile that I'd break from that alone.
But something else was happening.
The boundaries of being human… were beginning to unravel.
And I could sense it—
If I ever lost control, something irreversible would follow.
So I searched for another truth.
Who am I, really?
If you strip away all conditioning… all programming… what remains?
Some religions and philosophers claim it's the awareness that observes everything.
But that never satisfied me.
Yes, there is an observer.
But where does creation truly occur?
Is it just modified memory?
Or something more?
I always felt it was something beyond that—something that simply manifests in ways we can comprehend.
A state of infinite potential.
A question I believed would never be answered.
But today…
I felt it.
Something extraordinary.
Something that could only be called—
The origin of everything.
Something I could finally call… "I."
It wasn't something that could be explained with words.
It was a state of profound integration.
As if I were connected to the deepest layers of reality itself.
And as I grasped that feeling—
The absorption changed.
It surged to an entirely different level.
In mere moments, the struggle ended.
The beast let out one final, broken screech before its body crumbled into ash—
Its essence completely consumed.