<span class="mu-r">There is everything. And there is YOU. There is YOU circling round it, the frame of the loom; there is YOU, piercing through it, the spine of the world; there is YOU, outside and in it, in it, in it, in it. YOU thrill at it and it thrills at YOU, in fear or love, in slavish devotion.
There is YOU. And there is everything</span>, dizzily<span class="mu-r"> spread before YOU, a tapestry without design or permission. A hideous wet crazy-quilt riddled with creatures</span>— people—<span class="mu-r"> riddled with people YOU can't see from this vantage, no matter the size of YOUr eyes. Only the lives snarled together. Only the ugly knots they leave. YOU could comb them all straight with the subtlest of—
YOU could but </span>you<span class="mu-r"> will not.</span> You<span class="mu-r"> will not. That would be no ending. There would be YOU and there would be nothing but YOU and wouldn't</span> you<span class="mu-r"> be lonely then? Wouldn't YOU be lonely? Weren't YOU lonely before? All coiled up with YOUr tail in your mouth. The void on all sides. They say YOU wept and made the oceans. That's the story told by those creatures who suck and siphon off of YOU. Told by those ticks, bellies red and fat, who burst in laughable fashion. That is the end for them.
The end for YOU is unthinkable. YOU are a loop, a spiral fixed to itself, self-consuming, self-sustaining, perfect. No terminus for YOU exists. No terminus for YOU can exist. YOU are a thing-in-itself and YOU are perfect and YOU cannot die. It is not permitted that YOU can die. It is not inscribed in the law. It is not written. It CANNOT be written.
YOU CANNOT DIE.</span>
You cannot die. You do not have the stomach for it. You see the people-creatures the sizes of grains of sand and see their long lives unfurling from them like ribbon and seethe with jealousy. Them, but not you. Always them but never you. <span class="mu-r">YOU</span> could unravel them but you can't, can't, won't. You have not been destroyed so much. But to be them and not you— to be anyone but you—
This is a possible thing. <span class="mu-r">Except the END, all things are possible.</span> You would not be shirking your post. You would be here, as you are, unchanged. You would only be visiting. Not anybody important. Mostly not-important. Nothing would be different, or changed adversely, or changed at all.
This is possible. This is probable. This is the way of things, and <span class="mu-r">YOU</span> are the only being who may declare otherwise. Don't worry: your story isn't done with.
But why not read another's for a little while?
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