Lonely Ant

Ants. Always working, never stopping, never ending. A cruel circle of life that he was doomed to follow.

He was obsessed. Knowing a feeling that nobody else could feel. Great anthills could not fathom his depth, his agony, his loneliness. Ants feel nothing, always working, never thinking but he was different, desperately trying to find, to figure the pain that chilled his insides. He asked everybody even passers-by, nobody ever having really time to think, maybe not even having a purpose in life, but to keep working. They were brainless and dumb. Slowly he lost himself figuring nothing, sinking further into the depths of his own creation. Nobody could truly see him. A persistent crown of invisibility cloaked his presence enabling him to disappear completely. Trying to understand the root of his pain he would crawl somewhere dark. It suffocated him. Paranoia overtook him, feeling no other pain, but the one that greedily ate his soul. As proof for his existence as a being of sentience he pulled part of his antenna off, leaving it hanging limp. Now his head would always shift to one side, becoming a miserable creature.  He could feel physical pain but his mental suffering was unparalleled and upon discovering that, black outs started emerging during which he would dig a hole and creep into further darkness, his tiny legs flailing all around him with his back on the ground burrowing deeper into his own demise. His puny brain felt heavier each day. Any life and logic that was left was slowly draining away, running through his very being distinguishing his own pain. He could not share his pain, he could not lighten his subconscious load or even force it on anyone. It was pain that affected him and only him. He wanted to rip himself apart, flood his organs out of his system. Still sometimes he would work alone above ground side by side to his own kind. Still alone, nobody was able to comprehend him. Ants, always together, always alone, always working. He still craved for his underground refuge…

8/11/2008