Suffering from acute mold poisioning and periodic delusions, V seeks a meaning behind everything. If this is my destiny am I to remain unmoving and let it pass through me? Or am I to trust that I will make the right choices in this game? I grasp at my own sick existance, the knowledge that only I possess my guide to untangling these wires. With wire clippers in hand, I shorten, untangle, reconnect, and remove the strands of copper, my own flesh seperating one from another. I do not know what it means to be a person. I should have been one, I know. Or more correctly, I yearned to be one, to be worthy of someone staring back at my eyes and calling me a person. Despite all my wants, I know I continue to do the one thing that makes me so awful. I will continue to play this awful role until I can overcome my fight or flight, the emotions that make me like how a diseased fox is to a person. When I overcome my destiny, when I accept my role and the only true human action I can make at the end, I hope they stare into my bones, into the calcium, and understand that despite my non-human life, I can still be of some use. I will be useful at the end of it all, I refuse to let myself continue being a smear of mud across the timeline of life.