I'm expendable. I came to learn that recently. What is my life worth, anyways? What is yours worth? I guarantee you that more than 99% of the world's population lives aren't that crucial to existence. It's not some verified statistics or something, but let's say it's intuition. Important people are a minority. And I don't count.

Yet I struggle to live. To hope. To accomplish. Like it matters. I tell myself I have to live. To follow that selfish instinct within and flourish. I convince myself that I want to. Don't I? Death is humanity's number one antagonist. Or is it?

I fought tenaciously to reach this state. I battled. But now what? I am clueless. I have everything I want. The money. The house. The cars. The time. The luxury. But now what? I am empty. Detached. I never thought I would finally be done with climbing, so I never planned what to do next when I summit. So I wander. Sometimes in deserted places; I tell myself I am pioneering them. Frequently, I get the aura of danger, but that only fuels me more. I've spent my whole life under a veil, trying to protect myself and my sister. I believed that this is the right way of survival. But what is life without a rush of adrenaline or a wave of fear? Unfortunately, I realized that too late, after I spent decades avoiding roller coasters and water slides. I was a wimp, still is. I can't wait till I shed this skin of mine. And I wonder if this is even possible.

And some other times, I wander within my head. In places as deserted and as dangerous. It's overwhelming how complicated a human brain can be. How deep and dark. I marvel the intricacy. It scares me sometimes, I admit. The secrets it keeps. The coils and twists. The alluring control. I admire. I fear.