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Everyday, I’m confronted with the sadness inherent to life. At first it brought only pain, for I could do nothing to change it. It’s strange. One day, without noticing it, my perspective began to change. Wear I once saw only tears, now I see empathy. Death is now nothing more than another transformation in this chaotic life. There’s a solemn beauty in it, really.
The ant lives its life in a peaceful colony. Before its natural end it witnesses the fall of its people. Shattered and alone, it lives on. Soon it meets new friends of another kind, some of them inevitably betray him, for the life of a stray soul is already lost. There’s nothing that can be done. Anyone left that would defend him is gone now, and his new friends are of another kind. Should one step between the ant and his foe, they would become a stray too. Cursed to loneliness. So, the ant must bare his pain alone. No choice, but to serve; no path, but to suffer.
One day the ant may meet someone willing to bare that curse with him, but they would be of another kind. The ant has no choice, but to be left alone; he has no regret because he can no action. The one of another kind will have many. They will live in a world of what ifs, and in the end bring only more pain to the ant, until eventually, they too leave him alone.
After some time the ant may choose to make a change. They may abandon their lost brothers and sisters to be something they can not, another kind. The very ones the ant aspires to be will curse him with yet more pain, and then with more still. For he is not of another kind. They will ridicule him, and persecute him. Slowly, even his closest friends will abandon him because they are of another kind.
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