The human in the animal

Enslaved like everyone,

Though not all are locked in prisons,

Before I understood that I was alive, I was ordered to die. Not because of my weakness - quite the contrary - I was strong enough to pass through the gates of existence. Honestly, I don’t know how much of it was my decision. I don’t know to what extent my mother chose me, my father pulled me from death, or how much I could have felt nothing at all.

I do know, however, that the world wanted me to experience. I have no idea whether as the living or the dead, because how am I supposed to know this isn’t all just hell? How can I be certain that I am not already living in the sanctity they promise I’ll experience after death?

I have already discovered my form, I know I am human, for I do not shy away from animal behavior. I am aware of the amount of evil in the world, but I also see the good within it. In a way, human nature encompasses all animalistic behaviors, but doesn’t that define the human in me?

Desires, lusts, cruelties that I could succumb to. I consciously reject them all! I’m not trying to be anyone anymore - I’ve stopped pretending. I can openly say that I’ve freed myself from the closed cage. A cage made from the roots of a tree that I myself planted. A dungeon in a mine that I dug with my own hands. A slavery in which I willingly enslaved myself. A powerlessness that I have overcome.

Yes - I am a product of transformation. Perhaps like a meaningless hormone, enzyme, or simple peptide. Like something that only an overwhelming quantity changes in structure, but nonetheless, I am a product of my own transformation.

How many are there like me, and how many aim to be in my place? I have already arrived here! I am sowing my own fields before I learn to sow depravity. I try to exist as well as the human in me allows.